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The 

Joyous Adventurer 


By 

Ada Barnett 

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G.P. Putnam’s Sons 
Hew York & London 
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THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


PART I 

"First, you and I, just as we are in this room; and the moment 
we get below that surface, the unutterable absolute itself 1 Doesn’t 
that show a singularly indigent imagination? Isn’t this brave uni¬ 
verse made on a richer pattern, with room in it for a long hierarchy 
of beings?” 

Professor William James. 

("A Pluralistic Universe.”) 

CHAPTER I 

There was a great scattering of papers, and Lady 
Condor emerged out of the Assembly Rooms at Fair- 
bridge into the clear sunlight of a late April afternoon. 
It was sunlight of a very searching description; it showed 
up the rouge and powder on Lady Condor’s face and the 
black lines round her shrewd, kindly eyes. It picked out 
in her golden hair a strange green tinge. Nevertheless 
she faced it without flinching. Undoubtedly her smile 
was own brother to it. She smiled, as a child smiles at 
something it likes, at the gorse on the Common facing 
the Assembly Rooms. After a winter of few cold winds 
and little frost it was in bloom early and in amazing per¬ 
fection. 

“Isn’t it quite too lovely!” she exclaimed to the im¬ 
posing Archdeacon who escorted her. “And do smell 


i 


2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


it! What is it like ? Something we eat—yes. And who 
was it went down on his knees and thanked God, the first 
time he saw a field of gorse in bloom? Not Luther—no 
—but someone beginning with an L-” 

At this moment the south-west wind whirled round the 
corner, caught up the papers which Lady Condor had 
dropped, and carried them down the road in a cloud of 
dust. 

“Oh! My papers!” she cried, and held out helplessly 
a pair of white tightly gloved hands. She dropped in the 
effort a pocket handkerchief and a blue silk scarf. “And 
I have promised to sign all of them, and send them to 
Dudley Rancid, who will put them in his waste-paper 
basket unless we send enough-” 

The Archdeacon descended into the road and in in¬ 
tervals of mastering his hat and apron endeavoured to 
collect the scarf and handkerchief. The interruption was 
not altogether unwelcome. Certainly Luther would not 
have been guilty of any such extravagant behaviour 
concerning gorse as that to which Lady Condor had al¬ 
luded, but on the other hand he could not remember what 
celebrity had been, and the Archdeacon prided himself 
on his general knowledge. 

“Beginning with an L,” he said to himself, as he 
strove after the scarf. “L—um—Laud—Latimer— 
Lucullus-” 

“Ah! you nearly got it there!” called Lady Condor, 
who had not ceased to talk. “But where were we? Oh 
yes, the papers and getting them signed. And what a 
dreadful man—quite nice looking—he reminded me of 
George Alexander. Poor dear—he was my favourite 
actor—I shall never forget him as Macbeth—or was that 
Irving? I remember he had not good knees for a kilt. 
But who was he? The speaker this afternoon I mean. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


3 


I cannot think of his name—something beginning with 
Bo. Not well selected—no. He told us the truth—why 
is it that the truth is always unpleasant? Just like 
medicines! Why should they be? One must have a 
sweet after all of them—I hold my nose too—Ah, you 
have got it!” 

The Archdeacon had secured one end of the blue scarf, 
and was struggling against the wind for possession of the 
other. The handkerchief had joined the papers farther 
along the road, and was pursuing its downward path in 
the dust with apparent enjoyment. He gave it up, also 
the attempt to control the scarf, and returned to Lady 
Condor with it floating behind him like a banner. He 
was rather breathless after his exertions. Picking up or 
catching things was not really suitable for an Arch¬ 
deacon, or for a man of his figure, but Lady Condor was 
privileged. Indeed men had stooped and fetched and 
carried for her since she could lisp. 

She was still talking; at the moment of his return 
again about the Speaker at the Meeting. A Meeting 
held to protest against the Worn Horse Traffic with the 
Continent. 

“But who was he? And who got him to come? Not 
well selected—no. He told us the truth—because they 
were facts—who was it said you can’t get away from 
facts-?” 

“My dear lady,” interrupted the Archdeacon with de¬ 
cision, “in my opinion he went much too far in stating 
the case. Dreadful things have occurred through this 
Traffic, regrettable things, I am the first to own it. But 
to call the English people cruel is on the face of it absurd. 
Absurd!” he repeated with warmth. “Also how are 
we to know that such things are going on unless we are 
told? However, I hope my few words in conclusion 



4 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

when I thanked our Chairman put the matter quite 
straight in the public mind-” 

‘‘Oh! there is a man catching my papers,” interrupted 
Lady Condor. “I do hope he will catch the handkerchief 
too—one of my best—I cannot afford to lose them now 
as I used to do. Such a nuisance—but where were we ? 
Oh—yes—but if it was the truth? So unpleasant of 
course. But one does taste it sometimes. I did this 
afternoon—really I did not like it at all. Though your 
spoonful of jam after it was very helpful. What an 
excellent tea they gave us—oh—yes—I was one of the 
hostesses, wasn’t I? I sent £i. But who managed it 
all? Mrs. Leicester Pocock? Ah! That man has got 
my handkerchief! And all the papers too-” 

At this moment a fair, very plump little man came out 
of the Assembly Rooms. He was almost well enough 
dressed to suggest a model figure in a tailor’s window. 
Only his undoubted air de race saved him. This was Mr. 
Arthur Fothersley, squire of Mentmore village, which lay 
on the border of the Condor estate, and a very old 
friend. 

His round pink face wore an expression of anxiety 
which broke into a smile of relief when he saw Lady 
Condor. 

“Ah, there you are!” he exclaimed. “I feared you 
might have started without me. Mrs. Rancid again! 
She seized me just as I was following you and be¬ 
gan to tell me all her last London specialist’s new treat¬ 
ment for her rheumatism. Impossible to interrupt 
her-” 

The Archdeacon moved down the steps to take Lady 
Condor’s handkerchief and papers from the man who 
had retrieved them. He was fond of speaking of himself 
with Archidiaconal facetiousness as a second Sherlock 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


5 


Holmes, and prided himself on being able to tell you a 
man’s profession from his appearance with almost as 
great accuracy as could that celebrated diviner by in¬ 
duction. This man, however, puzzled him. He wore a 
black, clerical-looking coat, good of its kind, and one 
that the Archdeacon might even have worn himself, but 
beneath it, incongruously enough, appeared a pair of 
gaiters and shooting boots. On his head was a broad- 
brimmed felt hat of the Cowboy description which would 
not have disgraced a scarecrow. He wore no tie, though 
his shirt and collar, so the Archdeacon noted with 
surprise, were quite clean. He had fierce blue eyes, a 
crooked nose, and a truculent beard curving upwards 
into a point. He was no longer young—about fifty—the 
Archdeacon decided. He might possibly be a game- 
keeper who had lost his place—through drink. The 
Archdeacon also found the word “poacher” running 
through his mind. He noted with kindly tolerance that 
the man did not raise his hat when he arrived at the steps. 
“Ah, socialistic tendencies,” he said to himself, and then 
he received one of the shocks of his life. 

Wholly unmindful of the Archdeacon’s dignified 
presence ready to receive the papers and handkerchief, 
the man walked up the steps and stuffed them uncere¬ 
moniously into Lady Condor’s hands. 

“Hullo, Marion!” he said. “Still dropping things all 
over the place!” 

The voice was a well-bred, imperious voice, the manner 
that of an intimate. The Archdeacon staggered. 

“Good Heavens! It’s James Godolphin!” exclaimed 
Lady Condor, and promptly dropped all the papers and 
the handkerchief again. The latter, catching in one of 
her many brooches, waved gaily in the breeze. 

“Well, I’m not going to pick them up this time,” said 


6 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


James Godolphin, and he put his hands in his pockets 
while the Archdeacon and Mr. Fothersley, assisted by 
lesser lights who were beginning to dribble slowly out 
of the Assembly Rooms, collected the papers once 
more. 

“But what are you doing here? Were you at the 
Meeting? I thought you never went to Meetings. So 
wise—but so wanting in your duty to the Public. A m$n 
in your position ought—James, you have forgotten to put 
a tie on,” said Lady Condor all in one breath, stopping 
on a note of horror. 

“Why should I wear a tie? Hasn’t the shirt got a 
button and buttonhole?” 

“But at a Public Meeting, James-” 

“I was not at the Meeting, Marion. It is not necessary 

to go to a Meeting to know that we are carrying on-” 

“But, James, you would simply have loved the Speaker. 
He was so rude. I cannot remember his name—some¬ 
thing that began with Bo. He told us the unvarnished 

truth—just like you do-” 

“I don’t. I’ve washed my hands-” 

“Well, you always did, James. And the Truth should 
remain at the bottom of her well, as it says in the Bible— 
or is it in ‘Alice in Wonderland’? But where have you 

been, James? Not to London, I hope-” 

“Why not to London? If you have been given a Pro¬ 
fessorial Chair you must sit in it sometimes, you know.” 
“But without a tie, James-” 

Here the Archdeacon interrupted the duet. It seemed 
the only possible way to be on in the scene as an Arch¬ 
deacon certainly should be. 

“Pray present me to Professor Godolphin, dear Lady 
Condor,” he said ceremoniously. “It is an honour I 
have long looked forward to.” 







THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


7 


“Errmph!” said the Professor, looking less like a 
Professor and more like a Poacher than ever. 

“When may we expect another of your magnificent 
contributions to our Historical Literature?” asked the 
Archdeacon, undaunted. Indeed he had a profound re¬ 
spect for Godolphin’s work. Also he suspected that he 
showed more breadth of mind in this matter than did 
most of his colleagues. “I assure you I for one look 
upon them as an Event. If I remember rightly it is 
rather more than three years since 'Comparative History’ 
appeared, so I think we may perhaps hope that you will 
soon-” 

“Why should I?” snapped the Professor, and glared 
at him. “Have you ever listened, any of you? No! A 
nice mess you’re in too! Well, don’t blame me. I told 
you what had happened before, and why it happened. 
I-” 

“James,” broke in Lady Condor, “I’ve just remembered 
we are not on speaking terms. Of course! That is why 
I have not seen you for such a long time. What was it 
we quarrelled about? I think it was about something 
beginning with a P. Could it have been Politics—no—I 
believe it was Pigs. Something to do with Cross Breed¬ 
ing—and they were all spotted red and black—like Noah’s 
Ark Pigs-” 

“Berkshire and Tamworth,” said the Professor and 
laughed. He had an unexpected and infectious laugh. 
Everyone joined in. “Well, I can’t tell you what we 
quarrelled about, Marion. You always were a most 
unreasonable woman, and you never would listen to the 
truth-” 

“But I did this afternoon,” Lady Condor interrupted 
him once more. “Poor old Mr. Wallis wanted to go 
out. But so awkward when you are on the Platform. 





8 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


The short skirts are so awkward too. They ought to 
make special Platform Frocks. I must suggest it to 
Worth. The back benches don’t understand, you see. 
And so many women don’t know how to sit down—no. 
But where were we? Oh yes—the Speech. Did Mr. Bo 
. . . I cannot remember the name—say we were not 
worth one farthing or was it the two sparrows ? Some¬ 
thing like that-” 

“I deprecate very much the introduction of Holy Writ 
and the name of the Almighty into a speech of that de¬ 
scription,” said the Archdeacon. “I am sure you agree 
with me, Mr. Godolphin?” 

“If God’s anywhere He’s everywhere,” said the Pro¬ 
fessor. “Not sure He’s anywhere myself. You are. 
Why not at the Meeting? Errmph!” 

“One must use discrimination,” said the Archdeacon 
judicially. It was a useful phrase. “This young man 
had none. The speech would have been admirable ad¬ 
dressed to a low class audience. Exactly what they like. 
But to address such an audience as was assembled this 
afternoon in that—er—flamboyant style was a grave 
error both of taste and judgment. And of course to 
accuse Us of being cruel-” 

“So you are,” snorted the Professor, with such sud¬ 
denness that it caused the Archdeacon to heel over like 
a ship checked in full sail. “Beastly cruel, all of you. 
Don’t care a hang how you torture anything if you get a 
little money or amusement out of it. Damnably cruel! 
Wouldn’t mind so much if you had the courage of your 
brutality. Always denying it—saying you’re bubbling 
over with justice and mercy. Errmph!” 

He glared at Lady Condor, and then suddenly smiled. 
She was looking at him with round eyes and her mouth 
open like a scolded child. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


9 


“My dear James, I had forgotten how dreadful you 
are. Don’t take any notice of him, Archdeacon Pinniger. 
He- Ah! now I remember! Of course! We quar¬ 

relled because I told you you were not fit for Polite 
Society—I knew it began with a P. Not Pigs—no— 
Polite Society—And I was quite right-” 

“Not at all!” snapped the Professor. “Polite Society 
is not fit for Me.” 

“Well, at any rate we are friends again. And you 
must drive home with me in the car. Arthur,” she smiled 
at Mr. Fothersley in high good humour, “you will not 
mind sitting back, will you ?” 

Mr. Fothersley was delighted to sit anywhere if it 
helped to cement the renewed friendship. He disliked 
his friends quarrelling, especially when they were re¬ 
lated. “Always the worst quarrels,” he would say. And 
this one had been so silly. Really about nothing at all, 
only they would both talk at once, which always led to 
complications. 

“Oh—my scarf. How did it get there ?” Lady Condor 
was continuing. “Put it in your pocket, dear Arthur, 
until we get home. And my papers. Yes, I have 
promised to sign them all. Good-bye, Archdeacon Pin¬ 
niger, and thank you so much for your charming little 
speech. It smoothed everything over so cleverly.” 

“Errmph!” grunted the Professor, and skilfully banged 
the door of the car on her retreating back and still flow¬ 
ing conversation. Then he turned to Mr. Fothersley 
left standing in the road. They had been schoolboys 
together, and Godolphin grinned at him much as he would 
have done in those old days if he had outwitted another 
boy. And Mr. Fothersley’s cherubic little face broke 
into an answering grin, just as it might have done long 
ago. He was conscious of a desire to wink. Very odd. 




IO THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

A thing he had not done for years. A thing indeed he 
objected to. Very odd—the effect Janies always had on 
him. 

“She will be wanting me to go into Polite Society 
beginning with a P again,” said the Professor, and did 
wink. “We remember her since she was in petticoats, 
don’t we? Hard to refuse.” 

He waved a hand at Lady Condor’s protesting face as 
she struggled to get the window of the car down. 

“Done you this time, Marion!” he shouted, to the 
interest and amusement of the little crowd of the less 
mighty which had gathered, and strode away down a 
side street. 

Archdeacon Pinniger expressed, to a group of highly 
interested ladies, his regret that a man so brilliantly 
gifted should be so very peculiar. “Something in the 
Family? Oh well! Well! One does not talk of these 
things.” They were all so entertained that they forgot 
how much annoyed they had been with the afternoon’s 
Speaker, and the Archdeacon found the task of smooth¬ 
ing the paths of the righteous, one peculiarly his own, 
considerably lightened. 

But Lady Condor was really vexed. 

“That was too bad of James!” she exclaimed, as the 
motor curved away from the door of the Assembly 
Rooms. “I did want to talk to him. And now I don’t 
know when I shall see him again. You know he will 
never come to the Castle, and it is impossible to get to 
him. There is only a cart track up to the house—dread¬ 
fully neglected—all through the woods, you know. So I 
can’t go in the motor or even in the bath chair, and there 
it is! You see I had almost forgotten his existence— 
poor dear—one is so dreadfully busy. But when he ap¬ 
peared quite suddenly like that just now— Do imagine 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


11 


such a thing as going to London without a tie on! And 
he must have been at a Meeting of some sort because he 
took the Chair. What must everybody have thought! 
But where were we ? Oh yes—when I saw him again I 
knew how fond of him I really am—at the back of every¬ 
thing you know-” 

The Eternal Child in Woman was very visible in the 
queer but delightful make-up that was Marion Condor. 
When she was really distressed you longed to comfort 
her. 

“I must own I always find, when I see him, that I have 
a sneaking fondness for James myself,” acknowledged 
Mr. Fothersley. “But really his opinions did become out¬ 
rageous. Outrageous!” he repeated warmly and blew his 
nose. “Nothing was sacred to him. Neither Church, nor 
State, not even our Great Traditions. The Royal Family 
certainly I never heard him actually speak against; but 
that was only because he said ‘the poor things could not 
help themselves/ You do not expect a man of good 
family to say such things. And during the War he was 
impossible, really impossible. I remember one evening 
when dining at the Duke’s. General Bowmander actually 
coupled James’s name with that of Bernard Shaw, and 
said they ought both to be put up against the wall and 
shot. A fiery little man, of course, but-” 

“Red-headed,” said Lady Condor. “I sometimes won¬ 
der if I had married him- Not the General—no. 

James. He was very much in love with me once—poor 
dear-” 

“We all were, Marion,” murmured Mr. Fothersley. 

Lady Condor smiled, a reminiscent smile. 

“Men are curious things—very curious,” she mur¬ 
mured. “But where were we? Oh, yes—poor dear 
James! And if I had married him. I wonder what he 






12 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

would have been like now? Not one bit like he is, you 
know. And I should never have allowed a beard— 
never. Isn’t it funny when one thinks of it? I should 
have married him, I believe—if Condor had not asked 
me. He nearly didn’t, I remember, because there was 
that Foljambe girl. A Cat! Soft and furry and cuddly 
with claws.” There was a gleam of remembered warfare 
in her eyes. “Curious things—men—very curious—I 
have never quite been able to understand them—in this 
matter of Cats you know. And I have had a great deal 
of experience.” 

She fell into sudden but evidently profound thought. 

“None more, Marion. None more,” responded Mr. 
Fothersley warmly. 

Lady Condor emerged from her thought-depths with 
the same suddenness with which she had fallen into them 
and exclaimed: 

“Men talk about we Women—Well! ! !” She threw 
out both hands helplessly, scattered everything she had 
on her lap to right and left, and looked at Mr. Fothersley. 
“Well!” she repeated. “But where were we? Oh—yes 
—poor dear James. But of course when Condor asked 
me there was no one else in it.” She smiled her wonder¬ 
ful smile. It shone with something dazzling—was it 
tears ?—in its brightness. “Well, thank God, we have been 
very happy. Though Heaven knows which of us has 
been the greater trial to the other! But where were we ? 
If I had married James—Yes. Or if his poor little wife 
had lived. He married her because she was so much in 
love with him, you know—quite a good reason—and she 
was very well off too. Her father made a fortune in 
candles, I think—or was it a tan yard—something that 
smelt, I know. Or if the poor little still-born baby had 
been alive-” 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


i3 

“A boy, was it not?” asked Mr. Fothersley, who liked 
to get a word in edgeways sometimes. 

“A boy—yes—such a beautiful boy too. I saw them 
in their coffin. It upset me terribly, I remember. Condor 
took me to Monte Carlo to get it out of my mind. And 
poor dear James went to the funeral in a red tie. It 
shocked people dreadfully, I remember—and of course 
no wonder-” 

The car whirled in at one of the many entrances to 
Mentmore Castle, and Lady Condor broke off to wave a 
kindly greeting to the curtsying gate-keeper. She looked 
out at the great forest stretching away on either hand, 
indescribably radiant in the sunlight. 

“Of course it is very beautiful,” she said with appar¬ 
ent inconsequence, “but I would not care to bury myself 
in it always, would you, dear Arthur? So I suppose he 
was very much in love too—though he never showed it.” 

“You mean James?” asked Mr. Fothersley. 

“Yes, Arthur, of course I do. And yet I remember 
distinctly when I was trying to tell him how sorry I was 
—it is so difficult, isn’t it?—he said: ‘Don’t be a fool, 
Marion,’ and asked me about the new motor. All motors 
were new then—but odd—wasn’t it ? But here we are ! 
And where are my glasses ? I am sure I had them when 
we left the Assembly Rooms. I distinctly remember 
looking at Mrs. Horace Jones, in a new cloak like a zebra, 
in the High Street. Oh, there they are—and how on earth 
did they get there—and not broken! What a mercy, dear 
Arthur, you are so plump. Don’t bother about anything 
else, the servants will collect them. And oh, there is a tele¬ 
gram. Now what can this be? from Condor, I suppose.” 

She tore open the little orange envelope without ceas¬ 
ing to talk, a voluminous, many-coloured figure in the 
doorway of the noble grey stone building. 


14 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Mr. Fothersley waited with polite interest, indeed with 
open curiosity. It was one of the salient features of his 
general make-up. 

Lady Condor gave a little cry of pleasure. 

“Dear Hawkhurst has a daughter!” she exclaimed. 
“Now is not that delightful? I began to think that gen¬ 
eration would have nothing but boys—just as mine had, 
except for me. Both going on well and she is to be called 
Marion Rosamund Helen Emily.” 

But Marion Rosamund Helen Emily christened herself 
Ishtar, that being the nearest she could get to “Sister,” 
as soon as she could speak, and Ishtar she has remained 
up to the present time. Also she has remained the only 
daughter of that generation of the great Condor family. 

The Professor made his way home contentedly mut¬ 
tering to himself. It was not until the long hill was 
passed that he was able to breathe freely. 

People! He could not stand them. Every year it 
was becoming worse. Or People were. And they 
swarmed in towns. Swarmed. 

Yet the Professor was a kindly—even a gentle—per¬ 
son. In his little house high among the uplands of the 
great Condor Forests he lived peacefully with a dog, 
two cats, a donkey, a large family of robins, and his 
housekeeper. The nearer he got to it the more benign 
became the Professor’s aspect, and the more his resem¬ 
blance to a poacher dwindled. 

People! Too many of them. Far too many. They 
congregated. Fortunately. . . . Birth restrictions. . . . 

He turned out of the roadway and passed into the 
quiet fields. 

Green and cool and peaceful. No People. 

The fierceness died out of his eyes. His beard 
assumed an almost benevolent aspect. He followed the 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


15 


path out of the fields into the young growth of trees on 
the border of the forest. Every imaginable shade of 
living green glowed around him on a carpet of Wind 
Flowers. 

Pleasant, very pleasant. And cool. 

He took off his hat, and wiped the perspiration from 
his forehead with a large, bright red handkerchief. The 
Professor was fond of red. The sunlight made a nim¬ 
bus of silver round his head, and softened its fighting 
carriage. His mind resumed its normal train of thought. 
Something coherent emerged out of the indistinct contin¬ 
uous murmur. 

“Yes ... of course ... a fact . . . extraordinary 
fact. . . . Throughout History. . . . Minorities always 
in long run controlled Majorities . . . aim of State . . . 
greatest good. . . . greatest number. . . . Ptch! greatest 
good. ...” At that moment he said it absolutely. 
“ . . . Minorities always—in long run. ... Of course 
they had. ...” 

“Of course they do!” said the Professor and put his 
amorphous hat in his pocket, laid his handkerchief on the 
top of his head, and continued his way. 

Two young rabbits inspected the handkerchief later on 
where it fell in the pathway, but could make nothing of 
it. A jackdaw however, who discovered it later on, 
prized it greatly, it was of the best silk, and took it home 
with him in triumph. 

The Professor continued his way tranquilly. The 
thesis he was propounding in his brain progressed also. 
Higher and higher he climbed and the green glory in 
which he moved unheeding deepened with the evening 
coming. The birds fluted gay and careless songs to each 
other. The woodpigeon cooed in the fir-tree tops. Little 
grey-brown rabbits scuttled across his path. None of 


i6 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


them paid the smallest attention to the figure moving 
up and up the pathway muttering learned words and 
grumbling amiably to itself. Neither did the Professor 
take the smallest notice of them. As he moved in and 
out of the sunlight and shadow, so his silvered hair shone 
or darkened round the bald crown of his head. A nimbus 
of light, coming and going, flickering here and there. 
Within the Mind continued to work. 

“These Minorities . . . um . . . what do we find. 
. . . Good men . . . so-called . . . always at head of 
Minorities ... of course. . . . What do we find . . . 
always done more harm than good . . . far more harm 
. . . um . . . far more harm. . . .” 

“Of course,” said the Professor. “Far more Harm! 
God bless my soul, what’s that?” 

His foot had struck against something in the path, 
something soft. He had struck it heavily because he 
did not lift his feet when walking, and as he struck it a 
thin, piercing wail rent the air—and every bird in the 
wood seemed to go wild with fear and anger. 

“God bless my soul!” said the Professor again. “It 
isn’t . . .” 

No, it couldn’t be. Of course not! What . . . ? 
How . . . ? Who . . . ? No, it couldn’t be . . . but 
it was . . . undoubtedly it was. . . . 

“God bless my soul!” exclaimed the Professor, for the 
third and last time. “It’s a baby!” 

The baby, as if satisfied to be recognised, ceased to 
yell and looked at the Professor with a pair of most 
extraordinary eyes. They were not blue, they were not 
green, they were not brown, and yet they were all three. 
Also they looked at the Professor with almost uncanny 
intelligence. It was wrapped in a weather-worn shawl 
which had once been blue, but had extracted one leg and 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 17 

both arms, so was comparatively free in its immediate 
neighbourhood. 

The Professor glared down at it, and held his beard 
tightly in his left hand, a habit with him in moments of 
crisis. 

It was not the right place to leave a young infant. No 
. . . not the right place. Public thoroughfare. There 
were Byelaws. . . . The County Council dealt. . . . 
Obstruction of Traffic. . . . Why? . . . ? How . . . ? 
Very easily injured . . . fatally injured. . . . 

The Professor bent down and peered closer. The baby 
chuckled. It put out a purposeful hand and clutched 
after the pointed red-gold and silver thing which had sud¬ 
denly swum into its ken. 

“Not damaged . . . um . . . lucky!” said the Pro¬ 
fessor. He removed his beard out of range, stepped 
carefully over the baby and went on his way. 

The baby made several ineffectual grabs at the strange 
object passing across its line of vision, and failing to 
catch hold of any part of it started to yell again, and 
once more the chorus of angry, frightened birds accom¬ 
panied it. The Professor pursued his way for some fifty 
yards unmoved. He tried to regain his disturbed line of 
thought. “Minorities . . . um ... far more harm 
... far more. . . .” Then he paused. 

Perhaps . . . yes. . . . Dropped by accident . . . um 
. . o The female . . . um . . . probably mother . . . 
discover loss . . . return. Or it might be a child. Children 

were careless.Left things about . . . dropped 

things . . . um . . . Marion. . . . Very careless. 
Ought he to wait ? Suppose no one returned ? Very care¬ 
less. Or perhaps left on purpose. . . . Things happened. 

And then ... “I can’t leave a baby,” said the Pro¬ 
fessor. Whatever had happened he ought to remain. 



i8 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Common humanity . . . um ... far more harm. . . . 

He sighed and felt in both his pockets. There were 
books there. His face brightened. There was also his 
hat, which puzzled him, so he put it back. Then he made 
himself as comfortable as he could on a convenient stump, 
near the baby but not too near, and settled down to the 
largest of the three books. A companionable looking 
volume in brown vellum nearly black with much use. 

The baby settled down too and played with a surpris¬ 
ingly friendly dragonfly who came glancing up from the 
little stream near by, which guggled and chuckled and 
made cool and pleasant noises on its way from the pond 
up above to the pond down below. When it left an old 
Mother Rabbit came and poked a nose twitching with 
curiosity and interest into the baby’s face, and the baby 
dabbled its fingers in the rabbit’s soft fur and crowed 
with glee. Then it fell suddenly sound asleep, about the 
same hour that the birds began to settle down and the 
shadows came and folded things up in their soft grey 
arms. 

Nobody else came, and the Professor read on until it 
became too dark to see well. 

“Light . . . very bad to-night,” he muttered, and 
felt about half automatically for his study lamp. Finding 
nothing there he looked up and blinked. 

“God bless my soul,” he said. “Yes ... the baby. 

It was still there. 

He stood up and blinked again. It was rapidly getting 
dark. The third possibility was correct. 

He did not like it. He did not like it at all. Annoying 
. . . very annoying. Left on purpose ... um ... de¬ 
serted . . . birth-rate . . . restricted birth-rate ... yes 
. . . necessary . . . certainly . . . very necessary. . . . 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


19 


He prepared to handle the child. 

A delicate job. Was there not some physiological 
reason why it should be done by a skilled hand? Some 
part of the anatomy . . . The neck. ... He must be 
on his guard. He had never touched a baby before. The 
whole thing was absurd. 

He peered at the baby again from a different angle. 
It certainly looked intelligent. It could not be a new¬ 
born infant. At any rate the thing had to be done. 

He gathered the corners of the shawl and drew them 
tightly together. He lifted the bunch carefully; it might 
have been a shawlful of eggs. The baby did not struggle. 
It opened its eyes and appeared as wide awake as it had 
been sound asleep a second before, but it made no protest. 
Neither did the birds. The Professor clutched his bundle 
with renewed firmness, holding it in front of him, and 
went on his way. Unnoticed a soft white presence flitted 
beside him above the undergrowth in and out of the 
shadowy tree trunks on his left. It was a white owl. At 
the edge of the wood it disappeared, and the Professor 
stepped through a gate into the fields which lay on the 
east side of his house. Two small fields sufficient to af¬ 
ford grazing for two gentle Jersey cows and an old 
donkey. Why the donkey, no one quite knew. He had 
been given to the Professor long ago by some one who 
wanted a home for him, and he had lived the life of a 
gentleman with the Professor ever since. His name on 
arrival had been Ned, but Gerry the Cowboy, who did not 
approve of a donkey living as an aristocrat, had christened 
him King Edward. 

He came out of the shadows to welcome the Professor 
and displayed an embarrassing interest in the bundle he 
carried. Also, the Professor’s arms were so tightly clipped 
to his side, in the supreme effort to carry the bundle 


20 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

safely, that King Edward could not get his nose under 
either of them as was his wonted custom when escorting 
the Professor across the field. 

“Shoo!” said the Professor. “Sho-oo, stupid. It’s a 
baby. Sho-oo. Go away.” 

He was hot with the terrible exertion of carrying the 
infant. King Edward refused to be shoo-ed away. What 
was he doing with this ridiculous bundle? The whole 
thing was absurd. Absurd! He got through the second 
gate with difficulty, hampered by King Edward at every 
turn, and at last arrived in front of the house. 

Small and old and grey and brown it melted into the 
spring wood background almost as part of it. Originally 
it had been a keeper’s cottage on the Condor estate but 
had fallen into disuse, and been given to the Professor 
for his lifetime by his cousin Anthony Henry William 
Fitzhugh, Earl of Condor, who, like Mr. Fothersley, had 
always had a sneaking fondness for brilliant, wayward, 
hot-tempered James Godolphin. 

That was the time when he had just married, with the 
petrifying suddenness with which he did everything in his 
youth, and he and his small wife enjoyed themselves 
vastly in their early married days renovating the little old 
place, building on a big beautiful living-room, and making 
a garden. They planted and sowed possible and impos¬ 
sible things in every possible and impossible place, and 
they throve. They collected together a queer menagerie 
of birds and beasts, both wild and domesticated, and were 
supremely and absurdly happy. One June evening they 
walked together in their garden, hand in hand as their 
ridiculous habit was, and looked at their poppies, and he 
said, “Why, miracles happen every day, beloved,” and the 
next evening she had slipped away beyond the stars, with 
a small son to bear her company. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


21 


The house had dormer windows in the roof, and lat¬ 
ticed windows under the eaves, and a deep porch. It 
was built of old rose-red bricks, and had a roof of rose- 
red tiles, well covered with gold and silver lichen. It 
had a sweet briar hedge in front, and a wicket-gate with 
a hatch in the hedge, and a flagged pathway from the 
hedge to the porch—in fact it had everything that a little 
house in the forest ought to have. 

In the field in front were two apple trees, and on the 
grass plot inside the garden on the right of the house 
was a pear tree in full blossom. Beside the pear tree 
grew a yew, and beyond the pear tree a beech tree with 
all its gold shucked leaves waiting Vheure exquise. Snow- 
white, blue-black, and gold, against a mist of fairy green. 
Very wonderful indeed. 

A dog came out to greet him, as a dog should in all 
well-regulated houses, and made as much fuss of him as 
though he had been away for twenty years. The dog 
was a sheep dog, and he had one brown eye and one 
blue, and his name was Wanky. He barked, and waltzed 
round and round the Professor, and jumped over the 
gate and back again, and behaved generally as if suffering 
from delirium. Then he sat down suddenly and began 
to bite fleas at the end of the back which is nearest the 
tail. 

The Professor smiled as he unlatched the gate. He 
was always pleased to get home. And then he frowned. 
Across the flagged pathway travelled a slug. An elonga¬ 
ted white slug, about his evening business with the young 
mallow and lupin just beginning to show above the earth, 
and very delicate feeding. 

Now the Professor was a gardener, that sort of 
gardener who is born not made, and he laid his bundle 
down without ceremony and went on a slug hunt. A slug 


22 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


hunt he knew is as enthralling as any other hunt, and for 
quite half an hour it engrossed the Professor to the ex¬ 
clusion of all other things. Then, when he had thoroughly 
divested each border of every traceable slug by means 
which shall be nameless, he stepped into the porch supper- 
wards. And immediately there arose from the eaves 
above a clamour of angry and worried birds. 

The Professor looked up, immediately interested. 

‘‘The swallows,” he said, “are back.” 

Wonderful . . . very wonderful. . . . Migratory 
habit. . . . One word for all we don’t understand. . . . 
Nature. A piercing wail from the bundle on the path in¬ 
terrupted his train of thought. The birds shrieked at him. 

“God bless my soul!” said the Professor for the fourth 
and last time that evening. “The baby!” 

Then he shouted “Kathleen” at the top of his voice and 
blew his nose violently. 

A small, grey woman came out of a door on the left 
of the little hall and stood looking at him out of the 
shadows. 

“Oh, there you are!” exclaimed the Professor as if he 
had not at all expected it. “Errmph! There is a baby, 
Kathleen, on the path outside. It would be well to bring 
it in.” 

The Professor’s housekeeper was an Irishwoman from 
Galway and she was a silent woman. Now when you meet 
a silent woman from Galway beware of her. This one 
had married an Englishman named Jones. She had had 
no children, and she had had a bad husband. That is 
very hard on a woman. The handy man of the place, 
who was a Scotsman, called her Mistress Jones, so every¬ 
body called her the same, except the Professor, and he 
called her by her Christian name which was Kathleen, and 
she was as unlike a Kathleen to look at as could well be. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


23 


She did not appear in the least surprised at the advent 
of a baby on the Professor’s pathway. No one who had 
lived with him for twenty years could possibly be sur¬ 
prised at anything. She looked past him up the pathway 
and there certainly was a bundle there which might be a 
baby. Also it was emitting a crescendo of piercing yells. 

Mistress Jones slipped past the Professor without a 
word and had the bundle in her arms almost before he 
had finished speaking. He watched her movements with 
interest from the door. The baby ceased to yell. 

“Instinct,” said the Professor, “is undoubtedly beyond 
Thought.” 

Yet what is it? No difficulty. . . . None whatever. 
Nature’s plan . . . um ... to prevent Extinction of 
Race. ... Yet what better thing . . . um . . . what 
better thing. . . . 

“Where would you be finding a baby?” asked Mistress 
Jones, moving towards him. The baby had contentedly 
become part of her. 

“In the middle of the pathway,” said the Professor. 
“From deduction I conclude it must have been left there 
on purpose. In case someone had dropped it by accident 
I waited. . . . Errmph! For some considerable time 
. . . yes. . . .” 

Mistress Jones unwrapped the faded shawl. But for 
that covering the baby was stark naked. A slim, shining, 
beautiful thing. A man child. 

One tiny fist was clenched, and Mistress Jones opened 
it. It held a copper-coloured beech leaf from the wood¬ 
land carpet. Beyond that to show where it came from, 
nothing. 

The leaf fluttered softly to the ground and the small 
fingers dabbled in the Professor’s beard. It was now 
within range while the Professor inspected. 


24 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“What age is the child, Kathleen?” he asked. 

“I would be thinking he is about four months, the 
craythure,” she said, and stroked the soft down on the 
baby’s head. It was the same colour as the beech leaf. 

“I am no judge,” said the Professor, “but it appears 
to me a healthy, well-proportioned infant . . He 
paused, and stroked the baby’s head too, gingerly, with one 
finger. The baby’s wandering gaze fixed itself on the Pro¬ 
fessor. Certainly it had curious eyes. Intelligent. . . . 

“Unless it should be claimed,” the Professor continued, 
“of which I see little chance . . .” 

He paused again, and Mistress Jones looked at him 
with a queer light in her eyes. 

“I propose to keep it,” the Professor shouted with ex¬ 
treme suddenness. “Errmph!” 

And he put his hat in its proper place (a most unusual 
thing), on the right hand peg behind the door, and glared 
at her. 

For a full minute she did not move. 

The baby put a wandering hand up over the breast that 
had never mothered, up to the throat about which no 
baby fingers had played when it was round and full. 
Finally it caught kt the dull grey hair on the bent head 
above it, and chuckled. Mistress Jones sat down on the 
nearest chair and the Professor stared at her with bewil¬ 
derment, with apprehension, with dismay. For she had 
suddenly burst into tears, and was sobbing and crying 
as if her heart would break, and the dog was licking-her 
face, with its forepaws mixed up with the baby on her 
lap, who minded not at all. 

The Professor’s supper, a great bowl of porridge and 
a jug of cream, was late that evening by a good half- 
hour, and the Professor sat in the big window seat among 
many books and papers and stared out into the night. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


25 


His mind endeavoured to resume its normal attitude. 

Minorities . . . always controlled Majorities. . . . 
Great men of history . . . had always done more harm— 
far more harm. . . . Baby . . . yes ... a baby. . . . 
His own baby. He remembered it now. Small and very 
white . . . like alabaster. So very white. And Margot 
. . . little Margot. . . . 

It was strange. For more years than he could count 
he had not thought of that brief and wonderful year 
when he had wandered in Paradise. And for some un¬ 
known reason to-night—to-night—it had all come back, 
clear and distinct as if it were only yesterday. 

The little wife looked in at the window in her pink sun- 
bonnet with a face like a rose, holding the small black 
kitten with both hands under her round white chin. The 
kitten’s eyes were green, just the same colour as the 
spring beech leaves behind. 

The girlish face laughed and dimpled, the bird-like note 
called to him. 

“Come out, beloved. The world is so good. And all 
our flowers have blossomed in the night.” 

He went round the garden once more with her, hand 
clasped in hand, and looked at each and all. It mattered 
again desperately that the white iris had put forth its 
first wonderful bloom. She whispered to him that the 
golden tulips stained with crimson were like the cup of the 
Holy Grail. 

She said to him a little song that she had found in the 
paper that morning. It all came back to him. 

There’s One who walks our hill-tops 
At the coming in of Spring, 

The freshets leap beside Him, 

And all about Him sing 
The Skylarks on the wing. 


26 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


He brings in either pocket 
A gift for our delight: 

From one, He takes a handful 
Of daisies, new and bright, 

And snows them on the height; 

Then, straightway, from the other 
He scatters far and wide 

The little yellow pansies 
That ’mid the hollows hide, 

Like children, open-eyed. 

And they went in and he sat on the music-stool and 
she sat on his knee, and they put the words to music 
together. 

The Professor stumbled across the room—it was now 
nearly dark—to the piano. His fingers wandered about 
the keys, striking a chord or a note here and there. 

But the old, long-forgotten melody refused to be recap¬ 
tured. He strove after the keynote. What had it been 
so full of? Brimming over . . . radiant . . . Joy. 
What was Joy? Radiant . . . brimming over . . . 
soaring singing . . . skylarks. The whole air thrilled. 


He was still striking strange reminiscent chords, pick¬ 
ing out broken bits of melody, when Mistress Jones 
brought in the lamp and his supper. 

“Kathleen,” said he, and he looked at her with extreme 
mildness, his hands still wandering among the broken 
melodies. “I have decided to ... to await develop¬ 
ments . . . yes. In the meantime, you will take charge 
of the boy.” 

Mistress Jones stood in the doorway, her cap and apron 
bristling with aggressiveness, her small grey face secre¬ 
tive, hard as a nail. 

“I would be saying, sir, that I have had the toothache 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


27 


these last three days. Sure the baby had nothing to do 
with me crying just now.” 

“That,” said the Professor, “is understood. His name, 
Kathleen, for the present, will be William. It is a good 
sensible name like my own.” 

But the next morning, Gerry the Cowboy happened to 
greet the baby in the sunlight as “young Copper Top,” 
and Copper Top he has remained up to the present time. 


CHAPTER II 


“I don't know when I have enjoyed myself so much,” 
exclaimed Lady Condor, rising like a billow to the hillocks 
and bumps that her bath chair was taking on the rough 
road through the forest. 

“I am glad,” said Mr. Fothersley a little breathlessly. 
He could not honestly say the same for himself. He was 
dripping with perspiration, a thing he detested. It 
dripped from the tip of his nose, for he had not always 
a hand free to get out his handkerchief. He was forced 
at moments of crisis to wipe it away with the back of 
his hand. Most unpleasant. The hand was not even 
quite clean. He frequently had to lead the pony by the 
bridle and to place stones behind the wheels of the chair 
when the pony rested in various steep places. He could 
not remember when he had last taken such strenuous 
exercise as this of guiding Lady Condor’s prize Shetland 
pony, her hath chair and herself, over the pitfalls and 
difficulties of that abominable road track. The pony was 
in complete accord with Mr. Fothersley. The bath chair 
was well enough on a gravel path or smooth roadway, 
but here, in his own country as it were, with the scent of 
the great uplands sweet in his nostrils, that bath chair, 
jolting and jangling behind, became a purely meaningless 
evil. Only Lady Condor and the little pack of white 
West Highlanders, who were as much part of a trip in 
the bath chair as the pony himself, were really enjoying 
the adventure. 


28 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


29 


The little dogs skirmished about in the undergrowth, 
shrieking with ecstasy as every living thing therein fled 
before them, and Lady Condor did not cease to chatter. 

“Why do we not do this oftener?” she asked. “We 
forget how wonderful our great forests are. I do not 
believe I have been really in them since Condor and I 
used to ride here in the early mornings when we were 
thinking of being engaged. One goes along the proper 
roads of course. . . . Dear Arthur, you look very over¬ 
heated. We shall be out of the wood quite soon now 
if I remember rightly. And the Little House is on the 

right, across a field- Yes, now there it is! But how 

pretty. Let us stop while you get cool. I hope the walk 
has not been too much for you. . . . And you have a 
dirty smudge on the very tip of your nose. ... I do not 
think I have ever seen you with a dirty mark on you 
before, dear Arthur—come and sit on the step of my 
chair. . . . Rob is quite safe so long as the Hunt is not 
about.” 

Mr. Fothersley accepted the seat with gratitude and 
attended to the tip of his nose. Rob inspected the turf 
on the edge of the track. It was full of white clover, 
and he approved. The West Highlanders, momentarily 
exhausted, lay about with pink tongues protruding, and 
panted noisily. Lady Condor threw back her veil, un¬ 
wound various scarves, and planted her pince-nez on her 
nose. 

The Little House, surrounded by spring blossom and 
flowers, smiled out of its misty green setting with a 
friendly face. 

“Quite, quite charming,” she said. “It makes me feel 
positively honeymoonish. I would wear a sunbonnet and 
a big apron with pockets you know—I should have looked 
a duck in them once, Arthur. ...” 



30 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

“You would,” answered Mr. Fothersley with convic¬ 
tion. 

“Let us come and stay here for a week! I will propose 
it to James just to frighten him!” exclaimed Lady Con¬ 
dor, and chuckled. “But now about this baby, Arthur. 
Undoubtedly there is a baby in the house, the evidence on 
that point is overwhelming. . . . My dear father used to 
say I ought to have been a barrister . . . not as a com¬ 
pliment . . . no! But because he thought I had such a 
wonderful gift for confusing an issue. Invaluable when 
proving some one hadn’t done something who had—but 
where were we? Oh yes, the baby. I cannot believe that 
James has been foolish enough to adopt a baby . . . 
although, of course, we know he is foolish enough for 
anything . . . but his foolishness isn’t that kind of fool¬ 
ishness—you know what I mean. Then it is quite im¬ 
possible to suspect Kate Jones of—of babies, even if she 
were not old enough to be its grandmother. She was the 
daughter of our gamekeeper at Ballinamore, not that there 
was any game to keep, the poachers had it all—and Kate’s 
father was the worst poacher of any—but as he was the 
gamekeeper he saw to it that father had a little shooting 
when in residence—and the woodcock there were wonder¬ 
fully plentiful.” Lady Condor rubbed her nose delicately 
so as not to disturb the powder, and looked thoughtfully 
at the pony’s tail. She appeared to have gone on a re¬ 
miniscent journey to her childhood’s home in Ireland. 
Then she returned from it with startling suddenness. 
“Of course James has always taken in all sorts of queer 
animals that people wanted homes for—there was an 
opossum once, or was it a chinchilla—something you make 
grey fur of. But if he once began to take in babies where 
would it end? I felt we must come and find out what 
has really happened. A baby you know . . . !” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


3 i 


She looked at Mr. Fothersley and Mr. Fothersley 
looked at her. They were in perfect accord. 

“You are absolutely right, Marion,” agreed Mr. 
Fothersley. “Poor dear James. The matter is no doubt 
serious.” 

He detached Rob from the clover and they started to 
curve round the field towards the wicket gate. The little 
dogs skirmished in front. 

“He will be very cross,” said Lady Condor, briskly. 
“And he will say terrible things. But I remember if you 
talked real sense to James he sometimes acted on it. Yes. 
I will hold the reins while you open the gate. Good 
Heavens, Arthur! What have the dogs got?” 

Jock and Jinny, their offspring in full cry behind them, 
had hurriedly bundled through the gate and raced to 
something lying under the pear tree. They and it were 
now a moving and undistinguishable bundle. Whatever 
it was, it was unmistakably alive. The awful truth flashed 
upon them both. 

“Arthur!” shrieked Lady Condor. “It is the baby! 
Quick! Get it away from them! Quick! Quick!” 

Poor Mr. Fothersley got there with all the speed pos¬ 
sible to his plump little legs, and stood hesitating above 
the wriggling mass. He could distinguish bits of baby 
here and there, but was unable, from agitation and terror, 
to see that it was quite intact and more than holding its 
own. Moreover, it was enjoying the rough and tumble. 
It might have been another puppy. 

“Marion!” Mr. Fothersley’s voice rang with distress. 
“I have never-” 

“Pick it up, Arthur,” shrilled Lady Condor, manfully 
struggling out of the bath chair unaided. “Don’t be a 
fool! It will get killed-” 

Mr. Fothersley, driven and desperate, plunged shaking 




32 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

hands into the melee, and drew forth a small form 
wriggling like an eel and uttering strange and joyful 
noises. He held it above the group of tumbling dogs 
and confronted Lady Condor’s agitated face opposite 
him. 

“Is the child hurt?” she exclaimed. “Examine it at 
once, Arthur! Do not hold it in the air like that . . . 
you look like some picture out of the Bible . . . not the 
Martyrdom of St. Paul—no—but something like that. 

. . . Where are my glasses? On my nose? I thought I 
was seeing remarkably well. No—not a scratch! Quite 
remarkable! And not a bit frightened. There’s a 
darling!” 

She shook her gold bag and a pair of white gloves at 
the baby, who grabbed at them unsuccessfully from its 
lofty position. Mr. Fothersley, still clutching with one 
hand the seat of the minute pair of drawers which con¬ 
stituted the baby’s complete attire and nervously grasp¬ 
ing a leg with the other, let his burden down slowly and 
with care until it was at a level to observe through Lady 
Condor’s pince-nez. 

“Not a scratch!” she repeated. “I don’t know when 
I have had such a fright. Although it might have been 
an Act of Providence. . . . But it is a beautiful infant, 
Arthur. Look at its skin, fine as satin. And its hair 
is the exact colour of that old copper cauldron which be¬ 
longed to Condor’s Great-Aunt Eleanor and which I 
found them using for a pig bucket—exact. Arthur, you 
have still a smudge on your nose. I don’t think I have 
ever-” 

“I shall be glad, Marion,” interrupted Mr. Fothersley 
with some warmth, “if you will tell me where I am to 
place the baby. My hold on—on its garment is very in¬ 
secure-” 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


33 


“The dogs have gone,” said Lady Condor, thought¬ 
fully tapping her cheek with the glasses she had just 
taken off. “Now I wonder if they are eating anything? 
At any rate the baby seems used to dogs! Let us put it 
back under its pear tree. And then we will look for 
James. Rob will be quite good outside the gate. He 
likes the taste of the grass here. And the hedge is of 
sweet briar, I think”—she sniffed delicately—“I am sure 
I smell it. But smells are so confusing. I remember 
once when Lady Ewerbank was staying with us I thought 
the scent she used was a cat about the place—so very 
awkward, of course—or was it the medicine she was 
taking? At any rate she was very annoyed with me 
about it. But where were we? Oh yes—the hedge. 
Perhaps you had better smell it, dear Arthur. There are 
some hedges that Rob eats, but not sweet briar—no. It 
is sweet briar—then that is all right.” She took his arm 
in high good humour. “Arthur, I am thoroughly en¬ 
joying myself! It is such a change. Now let me see! 
James will be in the new room that they built on. Yes, 
to the right. I must surprise him. Through the window 
. . . it is no use looking for a bell at the front door. 
There never was one. It is all coming back to me. 
James will -be buried up to his eyebrows in books and 
ink and things like that. . . .” 

Her delightful smile beamed and flickered and her 
many scarves and laces floated round her, her jewels 
twinkled and her golden bag glittered, and she dropped 
her gloves into the lily of the valley bed under the window 
as she placed her glasses on her nose and peered in. 

“There he is!” she announced gleefully. “I told you 
so!” 

She drew Mr. Fothersley nearer to the window. The 
room looked as if several children with imagination had 


34 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


for the space of many hours played Red Indians and 
Sailing Ships in it. Two things only stood out in the 
chaos with any distinctness; a beautiful bronze of Milo 
rending the oak, and a huge vase full of crimson tulips 
and purple iris. 

The Professor sat at a big table writing, or one should 
rather have said splashing, swift words down on paper. 
His hair stuck up and stuck out. His beard looked 
truculent. He held it aloft with his left hand while he 
wrote. Presently the hand clenched tightly round it, and 
wrung it as though it were a sponge taken out of a bath. 
He frowned and stopped writing. Then he sprang up 
and opened drawer after drawer, rummaged among many 
papers in each, dashed across the room and went down 
on both knees before a cupboard, in which he rummaged 
among more papers. Then he paused. 

“I distinctly remember,” he said, “placing that paper 
where I could lay my hand on it . . at once. . . . Ah!” 
He rose to his feet, crossed to the bookcase, extracted a 
portfolio, and produced what was evidently the missing 
paper. His eyebrows went up and his beard came down. 
“Of course!” he said, began to whistle and turned 
towards the writing-table. 

This brought him directly in front of the window where 
Lady Condor smiled and nodded and clung to Mr. 
Fothersley’s arm with the glee of a child. 

The Professor’s whistle stopped suddenly on C major. 

“God bless my soul, Marion, what on earth are you 
doing there!” he exclaimed, and glared at her. 

“Taking you by surprise,” answered Lady Condor 
briskly. “How else should one take you? Not seriously 

—no- And I have brought Rob and he is eating 

your best white clover, and Jock and Jinny and the family 
and they have eaten a baby. ...” 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


35 


“Marion,” interrupted the Professor, “this is not a 
comfortable method of carrying on a conversation, nor 
do I believe the dogs have eaten a baby. Will you come 
in, or shall I come out?” 

“Come out,” said Lady Condor, still in high glee, and 
she proceeded by the outer path to the front door. 
“Arthur, the old dear is quite pleased to see us. I always 
know when he glares like that—he is glaring to stop 
himself smiling.” 

When the Professor reached the front door he certainly 
was almost smiling. When he really smiled it was an 
event, rather a beautiful one. 

“So you actually came all the way through the forest 
in your bath chair,” he said. “Well, I am glad to see 
you, Marion, but I suspect your motives. Errmph! 
They will no doubt reveal themselves later.” 

“They will, dear James,” said Lady Condor, and tucked 
her arm into his with a proprietary air. “But first I want 
tea, and while Kate gets tea—you have Kate still ... ?” 

Lady Condor had provided Mistress Jones when the 
Professor had been left a widower. She had known her 
from her girlhood on the Ballinamore demesne, and she 
had been one of the maids in the big, beautiful old castle 
where Marion Condor’s father had kept open house and 
lived in peace and harmony among his tenants. Kate she 
had been called there, and Lady Condor considered it a 
more suitable name in domestic service than Kathleen.” 

“Yes, she is still with me,” answered the Professor 
and roared at the top of his voice, “Kathleen.” 

The kitchen door opened and the little grey woman 
stood in the hall among the shadows and curtsied to 
Lady Condor. New fashions did not come to the House 
in the Wood. 

“Oh, there you are!” exclaimed the Professor. 


3 ^ 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Tea! Plenty of tea, and things to eat. As soon as 
you can, Kathleen.” 

“And if the baby might be brought in, Kate,” said 
Lady Condor. “Not to tea, James—no ... I did not 
mean that. But on the ground is a dangerous place for 
a baby. The dogs nearly ate it. . . .” 

“Errmph! How much of it is left?” interrupted the 
Professor. 

“Don’t be silly, James. You know perfectly well what 
I mean. They might have eaten it . . that is to say if 
Arthur and I had not taken it away from them. And 
Kate quite understands what I mean. . . 

“Sure, my lady,” said Mistress Jones. “It’s not that 
one the dogs would be eating.” 

“Also the birds would let us know if the baby were 
in any difficulty,” added the Professor, and enjoyed Lady 
Condor’s bewilderment. 

She looked from one to the other, comically perplexed, 
and gave it up. 

“Kate,” she said with decision, “while I am here, at 
any rate, I shall feel happier if the child is brought into 
the house. There are wasps about—I saw one yesterday, 
though Condor declared it was a bee. ... I see you 
have bees . . . and the dear funny old hives like straw 
bonnets. . . . They tell me bonnets are coming into 
fashion again—but for young girls only. James, how 
pretty your garden is, and so full of flowers.” 

She moved about the flagged pathways like some large, 
many-hued butterfly. In spite of her size Lady Condor 
retained a wonderful grace of movement. Although she 
now wore three chins it was still evident that her head 
had been put on her shoulders in the right way. Her 
plump hands were still beautiful, she gesticulated with 
them frequently and eloquently. Her feet were still small, 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


37 


and she placed them on the ground as feet should be 
placed. She smiled and chattered and gave herself all 
the airs and graces of youth and beauty, and she was 
wholly delightful. 

“But why have you any flowers just now, James? 
Our spring flowers are all over and our summer ones 
are not out. But you have them all mixed! Who was 
it said you should never mix? I think it was Marcus 
Aurelius in his lovely Golden Sayings. But I do nor 
agree with him—even if he was Marcus Aurelius—if 
you mix properly. I remember my dear father . . . 
But where were we? Oh yes—your flowers! How do 
you get your forget-me-nots like that? Like a sky-blue 
mist everywhere? And the other flowers look so lovely 
in it. Our forget-me-nots are always in rows or rounds. 
Yes. Marcus Aurelius was quite wrong—you should 
always mix. But with judgment, as Paris—or was it 
Portia?—said. And your eschscholtzias are all out with 
the forget-me-nots and your Shirley poppies and anti- 
thingamies. Ours are only so high and not a flower!” 

“Mine seed themselves in autumn, proper time. 
Gardeners always pulling things up.” 

The Professor dropped the words into the flood, 
momentarily checking it. 

“You have a good many weeds about, James,” said 
Mr. Fothersley, who liked all things neat and in order. 
His own garden was a model of these virtues. “And 
the moss wants clearing from the path badly.” 

“Don’t look at them!” snapped the Professor. “Look 
at the flowers. Nothing wrong with them. Look at the 
moss too. Meant to be looked at. Notice the colour. 
Orange red. Beautiful. I got it from the forest and 
planted it there.” He glared at Mr. Fothersley defiantly. 
“But if you don’t like it don’t look at it. Never look at 



3 « 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


anything you don’t like. Why should you? Lots of 
things you do like. Look at them.” 

“I cannot say I agree with you, James,” said Mr. 
Fothersley firmly. He stared hard at some flourishing 
groundsel and a large sow-thistle. “These weeds, for 
instance, removed before they seed . . .” 

“Come here! Come and look . . . quick!” called 
Lady Condor, who had fluttered, still talking, to the end 
of the path, and was looking over a wall which just 
reached to her chins. “Here they are, the darlings!” 

The West Highland pack had discovered, in a happy 
moment when the proprietor was absent, the pig’s evening 
meal in an iron trough under the wall. Jock and Jinny, 
with the speed which bespeaks an uneasy conscience, 
lapped noisily at the wash. Seated in a row on the other 
side of the trough their offspring gave vent to their feel¬ 
ings in eager whines and ejaculatory yelps. 

“Aren’t they a picture?” exclaimed Lady Condor in 
a huge whisper, calculated to reach farther than any 
speech. The whisper ended in a piercing shriek, for 
suddenly Wanky the Odd Eyed hurled himself into the 
picture and the air was rent with the agitating clamour 
of a dog argument, not a dog fight, which is a silent 
affair. A handsome black Berkshire sow, who had ap¬ 
parently accompanied Wanky, turned a dignified back 
on the whole affair and hurriedly guzzled up the remains 
of her supper while Lady Condor did not cease to scream. 
She called upon Jock and Jinny, upon James and Arthur. 
She' denounced Wanky as “that beastly dog” and “that 
great brute.” She endeavoured to hit him with her 
parasol over the wall at a distance of some yards, and 
succeeded in hitting the black sow, who squealed but did 
not cease to guzzle. The Professor endeavoured to make 
his voice heard above the tumult and added to it. Mr. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


39 


Fothersley beat a hasty retreat to a safe distance and 
took the precaution of arming himself with a flower stake 
from the border. He had a horror of fighting dogs. 
People ought not to keep . . . 

Here Wanky shook himself free from the melee as 
suddenly as he had launched into it, jumped the wall, put 
two forefeet on the Professor’s chest, licked his face, 
tore down the garden path past Mr. Fothersley, who 
lunged at him with the flower stake as with a rapier, and 
vanished round the corner of the house, where to judge 
by the sounds, the baby greeted him with enthusiasm. 

“James!” exclaimed Lady Condor, “you are worse 
than ever! A place full of wild dogs and babies. It is 
really not safe to come here. My poor darlings! I 
thought they would all be killed. And I do hope I have 
not hurt the poor pig—I have broken my parasol—so 
fortunate it is not my new one—why did you not bring 
that stick quicker, Arthur? And where are my glasses? 
On my nose? But how fortunate! They must have 
got broken anywhere else. . . . And my handkerchief? 
Thank you, dear James. But this is not mine! This is 
a red one . . . and all the powder shows on it. Do 
look! James, I think it would refresh me to go indoors 
and powder my nose before tea. . . 

The Professor’s late dinner consisted of a bowl of por¬ 
ridge and cream, but his tea was a great affair. The 
table was laden with pleasant things. Home-made bread 
and butter, scones and cakes and many jams, lettuce, 
water-cress, and dainty pink white-tipped radishes. 
Honey served, as it should be, in the comb, golden liquid 
flowing from ivory cells. A noble bowl of cream, yellow 
and rich and of a sufficiency that enabled visitors to eat 
as much as they desired. And lastly, Kate’s potato cakes 
hot from the oven, excellent and soothing. The tea it- 


40 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


self was served in a Gargantuan teapot of green and white 
china, which might easily have been taken for a bed¬ 
room water-jug but for its presence in front of the 
Professor at the head of the table. The cups were of 
the same unusual size and none of them matched. 

While his guests helped themselves the Professor 
drank cup after cup of tea liberally laced with cream and 
much sugar. He and Lady Condor talked, often both 
together, and Mr. Fothersley got in a few words on the 
occasions when they happened to drink tea at the same 
moment. 

The dogs sat round and the Professor fed them 
shamelessly. This Mr. Fothersley disapproved of. It 
slightly marred his enjoyment of the tea. But for that 
it was a pleasant and successful meal. 

“Most excellent !” said Lady Condor as she helped 
herself to her fourth potato cake, manipulating skilfully 
the butter which dripped from it, “but nearly as difficult 
as asparagus to eat gracefully. I feel like the man in 
the Bible—Absolam, wasn’t it—yes—when the ointment 
ran down his beard. And talking of beards—I played 
bridge the other day with a Mrs. Harty Peak. I think the 
name was . . . Mr. Harty Peak has made a large fortune 
in Petroleum—or was it in a Hair Lotion—something 
oily I know . . . and she had quite a long beard . . . 
not little short bristles like most female beards . . . but 
quite long and soft. And she wore a bonnet—they are 
coming in again, I hear, but for quite young girls—with 
brown watered-silk strings tied in a large flat bow, and 
the beard—it was grey—was laid out on the bow. And 
Rosa Dynchurch kept giggling at it. She revoked twice. 
Most awkward and so catching. No, dear James, thank 
you. Do not tempt me any more. A most delicious tea 
. . . and I am supposed to be dieted, you know—no 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


4 i 


batter or cream, and certainly not potatoes—though why 
they are so fattening when they are nearly all water I 
cannot think. . . . And I want to hear about the baby. 
As there is a baby—on the ground outside—it is evidently 
true. But which story is true as to how it came here of 
course I do not know, or which of the stories about its 
parents. . . 

“As a matter of fact, Marion,” interrupted the Pro¬ 
fessor, “except that I found it in the middle of the path 
you came along just now, I know no more than you do.” 

“And when did you find it?” 

“Well,” the Professor ruminated, “I suppose it was 
about . . . Why, it was the day I met you dropping 
papers all over the place outside the Assembly Rooms.” 

“April 7th,” exclaimed Lady Condor. “I remember 
because it was Condor’s birthday. Good gracious, 
James, you have had it here about six weeks!” 

The Professor took out his pocket-book. 

“I had better put it down,” he said. “I suppose it is 
the only birthday the child is ever likely to get.” 

“James,” Lady Condor’s voice assumed an almost 
parsonic cadence, both solemn and admonitory, “I 
hope you are not thinking of keeping this—this 
foundling?” 

“Why not?” asked the Professor. 

“I hate people who say, ‘Why not?’ James. There 
are a thousand reasons why not and you know them all 
just as well as I do. Since I have seen it I am quite con¬ 
vinced it is the child of one of those red-headed gipsies 
from Scotland who were here last autumn. It is quite 
possible the mother is the woman who came into my 
garden one day and attacked me on my own lawn. Con¬ 
dor had had them turned off a bit of our land. She 
called me ‘old Sally Slap Cabbage.’ Wasn’t it nice? 


42 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Who was Sally Slap Cabbage? No one seems to know. 
A Costermongeress, I believe. Fortunately not before 
the gardener—no—who removed her later on using 
really terrible language—the woman, not the gardener, of 
course. . . 

“They ought never to have let such a person into your 
private garden,” snorted the Professor, his beard very 
indignant indeed. 

“But I thought you were a Socialist, James, and would 
agree with her that she ought to be able to ‘dob down' 
I think she called it. . . 

“Yes, yes! My heart and my head are Socialistic, 
quite, but my blood is the same as your own, Marion. I 
do not like to think you were subjected to insolence from 
anyone.” 

“I am glad to hear you speak like that, James,” said 
Mr. Fothersley, who up to this moment had been entirely 
absorbed in the excellence of the tea. “I am glad to 
know that you do draw a line . . .” 

“I do not,” snapped the Professor, and turned on him 
with alarming suddenness. “I agree with the woman. 
Why should you and yours have more than you know 
what to do with, and these people nowhere to place their 
foot. . . .” 

“I think,” interposed Lady Condor pensively, “that the 
correct quotation, James, is ‘head/ ” 

And then for a few moments she and the Professor 
continued to talk at the same time. 

“Well, you will get your deserts,” said the Pro¬ 
fessor. “Don’t blame me. I’ve told you till I’m tired 
of it. You buy my books. You read them. I 
make money by them, so you must. But does anyone 
learn the lessons of History which I make plain, least of 
all . . ” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


43 


“But of course I must stick up for the poor dear 
Government . . .” Lady Condor’s voice secured the 
ascendancy for a moment. 

“The strength of a Government depends on the souls 
of the people who support it . . 

“And Condor certainly does make the most beautiful 
speeches, and tells us what we ought to do, just like you 
do, James. So wise—what he tells us to do . . . but 
no one could possibly do it. ... I remember he had a 
plan once . . 

The Professor snorted, laughed, and gave up the con¬ 
test. The cessation of his voice pulled Lady Condor up 
too. 

“But where were we?” she asked. “Oh yes, that 
dreadful woman and the baby. If it is, as I am con¬ 
vinced, that woman’s child, then whatever it may have 

in its heart or its head-” She paused, and looked at 

the Professor very suddenly. “I suppose you have had 
it well washed with some disinfectant? I remember when 
we had a girl from the East End as scullery-maid, as a 
Charity you know, Things were dropped on her pillow. 
It was most painful. All the other servants gave notice, 
and of course no wonder. But Kate will no doubt have 
seen to it—and as I was saying, whatever there is in its 
head, there is no doubt whatever what is in the poor 
little thing’s blood. It must turn out a thief and a liar 
and a ne’er-do-well generally. How can it help it?” 

“On the other hand,” said the Professor—“may we 
smoke, Marion?—on the other hand its parentage may 
be of the best. One does hear of such things . . .” 

“Indeed yes!” interrupted Lady Condor, briskly. 
“Why only the other day ... eh, Arthur?” 

“Most regrettable,” murmured Mr. Fothersley. “How¬ 
ever, we promised not to tell anyone. How was the 



44 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


baby dressed, James ? When of—er—of better parentage 
I notice from accounts in the papers that they are usually 
very well clothed, poor little things.” 

“Stark naked except for a shawl. Extremely difficult 
to handle. . . .” 

“And you have not got any clothes for it yetf” ex¬ 
claimed Lady Condor. “I must see what I can find.” 

“Oh, we bought it some raiment. At least Kathleen 
did. But the little beggar won’t keep anything on. Just 
like a puppy with a bow round its neck. Worries ’em 
off somehow.” 

The Professor chuckled, and Lady Condor threw up 
her hands with an air of finality. 

“I think that quite settles it, James! And I am sure 
Kate does not want to have the charge of such a baby— 
if any—a sort of little savage—and the dogs, too. . . . 
Now do, dear James, let me find a nice Orphanage where 
the child will be well trained and taught to keep its 
clothes on. . . .” 

The Professor rose from his chair, took a firm hold 
of his beard, and glared at her. 

“Look here, Marion,” he snorted, “If Kathleen wants 
to get rid of it, it shall go. Go and talk to her. I’m 
tired of you. For Heaven’s sake leave us to have our 
smoke in peace.” 

Lady Condor rose too, dropping her usual amount of 
raiment from her person. She looked at the Professor 
thoughtfully while Mr. Fothersley picked them up for 
her. 

“Dear James, I think it is the shape of your beard 
that makes you so quarrelsome,” she said. “Now if I 
had married you I should never have allowed a beard— 
no—and I am sure it would have made a great differ¬ 
ence . . .” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


45 


“Marion,” interrupted the Professor firmly, “I think 
you are one of the most wonderful and delightful of 
women. You possess a power of making fools of the 
wisest men that I have never seen surpassed, but I thank 
God you never married me.” 

“I suppose you would not cut it off?” Lady Condor 
continued, quite unmoved and still thoughtful. “No?” 
Then she broke into one of her most adorable smiles. 
“Very well, then, I will go and see Kate. I shall persuade 
her without any difficulty. Thank you, dear Arthur. 
But where are my glasses?” She settled them firmly on 
her nose. “I shall want them to look at the baby. 
Though I am quite convinced it is that woman’s 
child. . . .” 

She disappeared, still talking, through the doorway 
into the kitchen, and the Professor looked at Mr. 
Fothersley. 

“You are still unmarried, Arthur, I think?” he asked. 
“Do you ever return thanks?” 

Mr. Fothersley selected a cigar with care from the box 
in front of him. His little pink face was very serious. 
Then his eye met the Professor’s in comradeship. 

“I do, James,” he said piously. “Very often. Very 
often indeed. But not”—in spite of the Professor’s eye 
he remained loyal—“not with regard to Marion.” 

“Marion,” echoed the Professor, and lit his cigar. 

It was in the nature of a toast. 

The kitchen, whither Lady Condor had departed, had 
been the largest room in the house before the Professor 
had built on his library. A low, square room, with a 
deep-chimneyed fireplace, oak-lined walls, and heavy 
beams black with age and polished by much cleaning. 
This evening a strange mixture of firelight and the glow 
of the western sun chequered the shining surface of wall 


46 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


and settle and chair, and gleamed brightly on copper 
utensils and creamy earthenware. A wisteria poked its 
inquisitive gold-green tendrils in at the latticed window, 
and on the wide sill, playing with one of them, sat a 
sandy kitten with a white stomach and china blue eyes. 

Mistress Jones sat by the fire with the baby lying 
across her knees. Apparently he had succeeded in worry¬ 
ing off the minute drawers in which Lady Condor had 
first made his acquaintance. The colour of his little 
naked body shone predominant among many colours, the 
colour of life. 

The little grey woman lifted the child in her arms, 
laying it across her shoulder, and rose from her chair. 

“Will your honour’s ladyship please sit down?” she 
said. 

Lady Condor looked at the shining back of the baby, 
the soft down at the nape of his neck, the waving legs, the 
little rolls of flesh, the curling toes seeking for a hold. 
Then she felt she was weakening in her purpose, and 
looked very firmly at the kettle on the hob. 

“I am very pleased to find you still with Mr. 
Godolphin, Kate,” she commenced briskly. “And what 
a nice kitchen you have got . . always the nicest room 
in the house. ... I saw a play once where the kitchen of 
a palace was used as the drawing-room. Quite lovely! 
One of Shakespeare’s plays, I think . . . somebody’s 
beginning with an S. Yes. And the baby has got all 
its clothes off now, I see. Really a most awkward trick. 
And what do you think about its parentage, Kate? I 
am quite convinced the mother is one of those Scotch 
gipsies who were down here last summer. They camped 
in the forest and annoyed Lord Condor very much be¬ 
cause they stole everything and no one could catch them 
doing it. And you can hear a policeman coming such 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


47 


a long way off that of course you can hide an ox even 
quite easily in time. ,, 

“Is it them common tramps, your ladyship?” asked 
Kate scornfully. “Look at him.” 

She turned the baby round and stood it upright with 
its feet on the kitchen table, and Lady Condor looked. 
Reluctantly, because she knew her weakness for babies. 
Unfortunately her glasses happened to be still upon her 
nose. She reminded herself that babies grew up, grew 
up into very objectionable people. Quite nice babies. 
That, Condor had agreed with her. James must be 
prevented at all costs from taking on this baby as a per¬ 
manency. It certainly looked well-bred. Kate was right. 

Then who-? Lady Condor’s mind began to travel 

round the last year’s scandals, and the baby sat down, 
suddenly slipping from between Kate’s protecting hands 
like an eel. It appeared to have done so that it might 
with more concentration observe Lady Condor. It 
seemed to have realised that something unusual had come 
across its line of vision. Something many coloured, 
something which glittered here and there, something 
which jingled. 

Lady Condor looked at the baby and the baby looked 
at Lady Condor. 

It had the most extraordinary eyes. Eyes that 
seemed as if light and shade continually passed over 
them, and as they passed the eyes changed, were liquid or 
soft or bright, were blue or grey or green. Curious eyes. 

The kitchen seemed full of the murmurous rush of 
water, rushing softly, lapping along the shore. There 
was a sound as of the wind rising. There shone a 
radiance of green-gold against a glory of blue. Then 
the baby laughed. Lady Condor looked at the little grey 
woman, vaguely appealing. 



4 8 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“It is twenty years and more since I was down at 
Killyran,” she said, “I don’t know what made me think 
of it then. Do you remember the water meadows, Kate, 
and the little waves that ran on the big river? It is a 
strange child, Kate. I wish we knew where it came from 
—one would feel safer-” 

“Your ladyship sees it is keeping it we must be.” 

“No, Kate—no. I cannot go so far as that-” 

“Maybe it’s a greater honour than you would be think¬ 
ing, your ladyship. And there is none deserving it more 
than himself.” 

“Nonsense, Kate!” exclaimed Lady Condor with sud¬ 
den briskness. “If it were not for that wretched Irish 
blood in me—not that I ever regret it, no—I would 
not listen to such nonsense for a moment. What would 
Lord Condor say? But if you and Mr. Godolphin are 
both determined—and I see you are—to keep the child, 
then give him to me at once, Kate. I have been longing 
to take him ever since I saw him on the lawn!” 

The baby was no longer it. 

“Cossy-wossy wo-o-o then!” And Lady Condor fell to 
talking the most pitiable form of baby nonsense, while 
the baby sat in the hollow of her extensive lap with his 
legs tucked under him like a small Burmese God. He 
took a deep and intelligent interest in her various belong¬ 
ings, but the usual destructiveness common to his age 
seemed wanting, nor had he apparently the ordinary in¬ 
fant’s desire to convey everything to his mouth. The 
little grey woman stood with her hands folded, her still 
face very sweet. 

“You know, Kate,” Lady Condor chattered on, 
“when I came into the kitchen and saw you with him, I 
knew at once that you would never listen to common- 
sense or reason.” 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


49 


‘‘Sure, why would I?” ejaculated Mistress Jones. 

“And I am not at all sure that I wanted you to either. 
I’m quite sure I didn’t when I saw his dear little back- 
view hanging over your shoulder. Yes-e-e sweet-um! I 
ought to have sent Lord Condor to talk to you both. 
But of course if Mr. Godolphin will not listen to me 
he will listen to no one-” 

“And that’s true, your ladyship!” 

“And he might have taken in worse things than this 
little darling—tickley wickley then! You see, Kate, if 
he turns out—well, not quite nice, you know—and one 
must be prepared for the worst in case it was the Scotch 
gipsy—a really terrible female—if it had been Irish 

now- -But where were we? Oh, yes—it is always 

easy to find some good Reformatory sort of place. Yes, 
Mr. Godolphin might have taken in something far worse, 
Kate. Bless its little heart! Did he like the pretty bag? 
I read about a man the other day who kept bears, not 
one, several. I forget if he was real or only in a book— 
but Mr. Godolphin does things which people would think 
were impossible even in a book. Oh, there you are, 
James! Listeners always hear the truth about them¬ 
selves.” 

The Professor snorted. He also glared, the glare that 
hid the smile, as he looked at the two women and the 
baby over Mr. Fothersley’s shoulder. Mr. Fothersley 
was openly smiling, pinkly and with appreciation. 

Always will that picture of a woman sitting by a fire¬ 
side nursing a baby, or mending a pair of socks, appeal to 
the sacred feelings of the male, in that inner shrine where 
to himself he still rules supreme and superior. 

The party broke up in the utmost peace and harmony. 

“Really, James, you are worse than ever, and I am 
as bad!” said Lady Condor gleefully, as she was packed 




50 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


into the bath chair with all her belongings. Wanky and 
the West Highlanders whirled round her, barking joy¬ 
ously, the swallows clamoured under the eaves, and the 
baby in Kate’s arms, still unclothed, waved naked limbs, 
and made queer and pleasant noises, and Lady Condor 
did not cease to talk. 

“I came to reprove like Isaiah—or was it Dean Inge? 
I don’t know what Condor will say, and I am sure all 
Fairbridge will talk. ... I shall not dare tell him I 
nursed the baby—but who could resist him. Yes—a 
darling then!” She talked amiable nonsense, waving her 
gold bag, and the baby waved back, condescendingly. 
‘‘By the way, James, he must have a name . . . what 
have you thought of? . . .” 

At this moment Mr. Fothersley succeeded in detaching 
Rob from the white clover, and he started at a trot with 
extreme suddenness. Lady Condor clutched both sides 
and continued to talk. 

“I will send you a list of my favourite names,” she 
called. “Must be suitable . . . rank of life . . . not 
known . . . Condor . . .” 

The words became no longer distinguishable. Mr. 
Fothersley’s plump little legs were almost running. The 
bath chair took the corner of the hedge with dangerous 
speed and disappeared from view. 

The Professor turned up the garden path. 

“Women,” he muttered and laughed. “Women . . 

The subject defeated him. Fortunately the baby was 
a boy. 


CHAPTER III 


There was no one else to care whether James Godol- 
phin took in babies or not among his other peculiarities, 
or who would have dared to interfere if they had cared. 
He had one brother, Henry, who lived in British 
Columbia, and was far too careless and gentle a creature 
to object to anything that anyone might do so long as 
they did not worry him. There was only Marion 
Condor. And as it happened Lord Condor was made 
Governor-General of Australia in the summer of that 
particular year when Copper Top fell across the Pro¬ 
fessor’s path with a beech leaf for all his heritage. 

Lady Condor was so excited over the upheaval a pros¬ 
pective five years’ absence from England caused in her 
life, and so intensely interested in this new departure 
of her husband’s that she forgot even to send the list of 
her favourite names for the baby, though she had actual¬ 
ly just started it, when her husband came in after a few 
days’ absence in London, and smilingly announced the 
offer of the Governorship. She had begun with Ran¬ 
dolph, and then put her pen through it as perhaps not 
quite suitable. Then she had carefully written down 
James before she remembered that it was the Professor’s 
own name and therefore would never do. And then 
Condor had come in and told her the great news, just 
as carelessly as though he were suggesting one of their 
frequent trips to the Continent. 


5i 


52 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“I can’t tell you how delighted I am—though it is a 
great undertaking for me—but I believe no one is fat 
in Australia—and if it were not for my figure, I am as 
young as any of you I really believe,” said Lady Condor 
to her eldest son’s wife, Constance Hawkhurst, who was 
staying at the Castle with her new baby, the little daughter 
who had been born on the same day that Copper Top had 
been found by the Professor. 

“If I come back quite thin no one will know me,” 
Lady Condor continued, and chuckled. “Though it 
will not do to get too thin. Think what a bag of wrinkles 
I should be. . But no one is just right, are they? Any¬ 
how I am delighted the Government have recognised 
Condor’s value at last. And it is only We who under¬ 
stand the Art of Governorship. These new men . . . 
how should they, poor things? And the Colonies know. 
If they cannot have a Royalty they want one of Us. We 
do not make those little mistakes which are so fatal—no. 
And your father-in-law is a very remarkable man, 
Connie. A statesman, not a politician. That is the 
trouble. He is like an Eagle among a lot of Jackdaws. 
But they will appreciate him in Australia. It is always 
so among a democratic people. Democracy has dethroned 
Us—but, my dear, it is very painful to see what third- 
rate people now become eminent. How is it done ? They 
are not even educated. The Prime Minister himself does 
not understand a word of French. And what a dread¬ 
ful mess everything is in. And the things they say in 
the House itself. But where were we—oh yes—Austra¬ 
lia. Your father-in-law quite agrees with me, it is an 
occasion when one can with a clear conscience spend 
as much as one likes on clothes. They will expect it. 
It will be like getting another trousseau, only more so.” 

Lady Hawkhurst sighed, though with a gleam in her 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


53 


eye. She was a dark, very beautiful, woman, with an 
exquisite speaking voice. She loved beautiful clothes for 
themselves as well as for her own adornment. They 
interested her more than anything else in the world. In 
Lady Condor’s shoes at the moment she would have been 
in the seventh heaven. 

“Dear Mater, how nice!” she said. 

She was very devoted to her mother-in-law. It had 
been said that Hawkhurst had married her for her voice, 
and she had married him for his mother. Lady Condor 
was fond of her too, she was so good to look at, and 
though she was certainly not clever she always did the 
right thing. “So restful,” as Lady Condor said. 

“Now, dear Connie, of course you must help me,” 
Lady Condor went on. “We had better go up to Lon¬ 
don to-morrow. We have none too much time. Don’t 
let my passion for colours run away with me, they are 
too lovely this year, and by myself I could never resist 
them, and Condor would say my hats were too loud, 
though of course if I listened to him I should always be 
in black, which depresses me terribly—it always reminds 
me of family funerals and port-wine and cake at eleven.” 

And so, still talking, Lady Condor left England for 
five years, to be one of the most popular Governor’s 
wives that ever landed in Australia. No people on the 
face of the earth were more capable of appreciating her 
wonderful and adorable personality. They had a great 
and glorious time together, and the amazing, but prob¬ 
ably quite true, stories about Lady Condor which flooded 
Australia did more to promote good feeling between that 
delightful race of our people and the old country than all 
the diplomacy of her very able husband. 

In the meantime Copper Top grew up quite undis¬ 
turbed by any theories whatsoever for the right develop- 


54 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


ment and training of the young. Not that the Professor 
had no theories, he was full of them. Also he intended 
to put them into practice so soon as Copper Top was 
three years old, but the first theory was that until that age 
a child should be left to the women. 

As it happened, however, soon after Copper Top ar¬ 
rived at the Little House in the Forest the Professor 
started his great work entitled “The Human Fiasco/' 
which so entirely engrossed him that five years passed 
like no time at all. Indeed the Professor disbelieved in 
Time, as he did in many things which most people be¬ 
lieve in. 

Occasionally Mistress Jones shook the Professor out 
of his timeless sojourn in the realms of his own Mind 
and consulted him about the Boy. Sometimes the Pro¬ 
fessor, taking his daily fresh air and exercise about the 
place, muttering learned words and performing incredibly 
absent-minded actions while he inspected farm and 
garden, would come across Copper Top in what he con¬ 
sidered mistaken situations. As, for instance, sleeping 
minus any clothing (the difficulty of persuading him to 
keep anything on remained) inextricably mixed up with 
a litter of small shining black pigs in the sunshine. 

“Kathleen!" roared the Professor. “Oh, there you 
are! Look at the Boy!” 

“Blessings on him, the darlin’," said she, and smiled. 

“Pigs," said the Professor, “are as intelligent as 
many human beings and less gross feeders, but their 
smell—ugh—smell—yes-’ ’ 

Mistress Jones picked the baby, he was then so far as 
they could tell about eighteen months old, out from 
among the pigs, and held him under the Professor's 
nose. 

“Sweet as a nut," she said. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


55 


It was undoubtedly the truth. Then and always, 
Copper Top possessed some curious faculty of keeping 
that beautiful shining skin of his free from dirt or un¬ 
pleasant smell of any kind. He had his own smell, as all 
bodies have, it was like the smell of the wind in the sun. 

When he was old enough to walk firmly upon his feet 
and explore the wonderful world Copper Top gave up 
sleeping on the ground. There were now other places 
accessible which he preferred. In the springtime there 
was the pear tree in loveliest blossom, a wholly delect¬ 
able spot; and later on the great beech trees in the grove 
above the Little House. He could climb any tree to its 
topmost branch almost as if he possessed wings, with the 
ease and grace of the squirrels with whom he played, 
even before he could run; and sing, long before he could 
speak plainly. And what he sang, or where the music 
came from, no one knew. When he did begin to run he 
could soon outstrip anything on two legs and most things 
on four. Always the interest which the birds had seemed 
to take in him from the first continued. They flew 
round him as he sped through the forest. They perched 
upon him when he was still. They fed from his hand 
and nestled against his cheek, pecking him softly. The 
butterflies and bees were quite as friendly. He had no 
fear of anything and nothing feared him. With all the 
elements he seemed in touch, equally happy in cold or 
heat, in rain or wind. It was difficult at any time, once 
he had mastered movement, to keep him indoors at all, 
but a wood fire, with the logs crackling and sending up 
many-hued flames, drew him like a charm. He would 
sit in front of it by the hour, quite motionless, watching 
the fire itself, or the play of light flickering everywhere. 
It was even possible to entice him to remain in bed if 
there were a fire on the hearth that he could watch. 



56 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


A curious child. Wild as a hawk, yet strangely gentle. 
Alive with a happiness so vital and so serene that it shone 
almost like a light, and yet capable if his feelings were 
hurt of flying into a perfect tempest of rage, in which 
he would bite and tear, with teeth and hands and feet, 
at the human being who had raised the storm. 

Water seemed as natural an element to him as the 
air. He swam and dived in the pond below the fields 
among the dab chicks and the moor fowl quite as a 
matter of course. One summer evening the Professor, 
engrossed as usual with “The Human Fiasco/’ came wan¬ 
dering down to the pond in his shirt sleeves and slippers. 
The day had been one of breathless heat. The sky was 
a livid blue. The sun had passed below the ridge of 
the farthest hill, leaving a sinister glow behind. No 
breeze stirred. No bird called or twittered. Only the 
little stream made cool and pleasant noises, danced and 
flashed through the heavy foliage over the dark stones, 
a thing of life, and fell and fell in silvered spray into 
the smooth surface of the pond, sending ripple after 
ripple laughing across to the shore on the other side. 

Pleasant. Very pleasant! The Professor wiped his 
forehead with his red silk handkerchief. The dance 
and play of the water refreshed him. He liked the 
sound. 

And then something else came glancing down from 
stone to stone, swift and shining. Copper Top in his 
frequent state of complete nudity. He slipped down the 
waterfall, a golden streak among the falling silver, and 
the Professor held his breath. He wriggled through the 
wet slippery rocks like an eel, and stood poised above 
the pond like the spirit of the stream gathered into hu¬ 
man form. 

“Take care!” called the Professor. “Take carel” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 57 

The boy had fallen head first into the depths of the 
pond. 

“Good God! Drowned—swim—how deep? Full of 
mud.” The words jumbled altogether in the Professor’s 
mind as he half scrambled, half tumbled, down the bank 
into the water. He waded a few feet and then found he 
was out of his depth. It was the deepest part of the 
pond. Yes—there was mud. He had not swum for 
years. Yes—thick mud. He struck out desperately. 
Sudden and complete there flashed into his mind a vision 
of that slim, exquisite body caught in the mud, stuck 
in horrible black ooze—the wonderful life being slowly 
choked out. . . . The Professor lived through an aeon 
of horror and agony in that one second. Time . . . 
there was no such thing—he had always maintained . . . 
Time. . . . And then, cleaving the dark surface of the 
pond like a gleaming sickle, up came Copper Top’s smooth 
silken head. His eyes (they were brown of course) 
shone like dancing water, laughing straight into the Pro¬ 
fessor’s agonised blue eyes. 

“Thank God! . . . Thank God! . . .” The boy’s 
body slipped through the clutching fingers almost as if 
it too were made of water. He lay back on the surface 
of the pond just out of reach and laughed. The 
laughter seemed part of the cool, pleasant noises made 
by the little stream, part of the ripples of the pond. It 
ran with them across the surface, laughing, laughing. 

The Professor moved clumsily about in the water. 
Very cool and pleasant. The little rascal. He was very 
angry with him—justly angry. But was he? Of course 
he wasn’t! Not a bit! The whole thing was absurd. 
He found himself laughing too. Great shouts of 
laughter. He had not forgotten how to swim. He 
would float too. Cool . . . very cool and pleasant. A 


58 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


good thing he had not his coat on. His slippers—they 
were in the mud. . . . 

“Copper Top,” he said, “who taught you to swim?” 

The boy floated nearer. 

“Can’t evvyfing?” he asked. 

“Bless my soul, I suppose it can!” exclaimed the Pro¬ 
fessor. “Everything except humans. I believe if you 
throw a young child into water-” He paused, remem¬ 

bering his own sensations a few moments before when he 
had seen Copper Top fall, as he thought, into the pond. 
Fear? Yes—fear paralysed—inherited. Catching. 

He floated along towards the opposite shore, where 
landing would be easier, moving himself with an oc¬ 
casional stroke like some large porpoise. His beard 
stuck out in front of him; his silvery hair, which had 
grown unchecked during the evolution of “The Human 
Fiasco,” floated in a little circle round his head. Copper 
Top shouted with glee as he frolicked round him, turn¬ 
ing somersaults in the water, and splashing in and out 
like some giant fish. The Professor watched, luxuriat¬ 
ing in the cool softness, and forgot to remember there 
were things called rheumatism and sciatica, of which he 
was at times painfully conscious. Then he noticed that 
his clothing was becoming heavy and very cumbersome, 
and felt sympathetic towards Copper Top’s dislike to 
garments. He wished he had none on himself. Impos¬ 
sible of course . . . but why? ... in many countries 

He drifted ashore and scrambled on to dry ground. 
A wholly ludicrous figure. Copper Top stood beside 
him with the water falling in silver drops from his 
smooth skin. His white teeth shone, his eyes danced. 
Of course! They were blue. He laughed, and again 
the laughter ran across the pond with the ripples. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


59 


“Run!” he cried, and caught the Professor’s hand. 

The Professor did his best, but his slippers were in 
the mud at the bottom of the pond and his socks clung 
to his feet like poultices. Still he ran—for the recollec¬ 
tion of rheumatism and sciatica had returned to him. 
Also he liked, yes, quite definitely he liked, to feel that 
he could still run and swim. He had not done either 
for years. An absurd adventure, of course. He had 
been in the pond and was wet through. Absurd! But 
he could still swim. . . . 

He arrived at the Little House very much out of 
breath and found Copper Top in the porch. The swal¬ 
lows circled round his head and chattered to him from 
the eaves. He was still stark naked. 

“Go in at once!” called the Professor. “Go and get a 
good rub down!” 

He felt badly in need of one himself. But—very ex¬ 
traordinary—still a fact—Copper Top’s exquisite glow¬ 
ing skin was perfectly dry. 

He looked at the Professor with pity. 

“You’se wet!” he said, as if it were the last thing the 
Professor ought to have been. 

When he had dried himself in the ordinary way the 
Pr ofessor came downstairs with learned words forming 
themselves once more in his mind. His train of thought 
was, however, undoubtedly disturbed. Undoubtedly. 
He could still swim. A pleasant thing after a hot day 
. . . invigorating. . . . 

He entered his study and found Mistress Jones had 
lighted a fire. A lovely fire of wooden logs. Seated in 
front of it, cross-legged on the ground, a little naked 
god, sat Copper Top. And to the fire he sang one of 
his strange songs, a song without words, only sounds 
of melody that the leaping flames caught and carried on. 


6 o 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


The Professor did no work that night. He and Cop¬ 
per Top talked together; had supper together; and after 
supper Copper Top took him out to see the deer, and the 
deer followed the boy about like dogs. 

■ That was undoubtedly the day when the Professor 
really adopted Copper Top. It was possibly also the day 
when Copper Top adopted him. 

The next morning the Professor called Mistress Jones 
after breakfast. This was an unusual thing, and there 
was something apprehensive in her attitude as she stood 
in the doorway and waited. 

“Come in, Kathleen,” said the Professor. “Shut the 
door and sit down. I want to talk to you.” 

For a while, however, he scratched his nose with his 
pen and said nothing. 

“It is about the boy,” he said at length. 

“What else should it be?” asked Mistress Jones. 

“Have you any idea, Kathleen, how old he is, that 
is to say approximately . . . n 

“He would be near six and a half,” said Mistress Jones. 

“God bless my soul! Very fortunate I asked you this 
morning. At the age of seven a child should begin to 
study. Before that age a knowledge of how to read is all 
that is necessary. A child’s brain . . . Can the boy read. 
Kathleen?” 

“He can not, sir.” 

“Tchut! Tchut! Why did you not mention his age 
to me before? He must learn to read at once. He ap¬ 
pears intelligent. It will be an easy matter. Quite. I 
leave that to you, Kathleen. It is the woman’s work. 
When he can read let me know. Writing will follow as 
a matter of course.” 

The Professor dismissed the whole affair as already 
practically accomplished. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


61 


“There is another thing . . . um . . he paused. 
“This persistent habit of taking off his clothes. It must 
be put a stop to. He must eventually and before long 
go to school . . . take his place in the world. In the 
present state of civilisation clothing is an unfortunate 
necessity. I have always felt that the lower animals have 
a distinct advantage over us in this respect. But as 
things are, the boy must be taught to go about at any 
rate decently clad. Why, God bless my soul, it is no time 
ago that I brought him home in that insecure shawl. It 
will be no time again before he has to go to school. . . .” 

The Professor looked at Mistress Jones and Mistress 
Jones looked at the Professor. It was plainly impossible 
to imagine Copper Top at any school. 

“Something must be done,” said the Professor with a 
great air of finality. 

“For the present, Kathleen, I leave it to you. He 
must be taught to read and to keep his clothes on.” 

The Professor paused and remembered the luxurious 
coolness of his float on the pond, the silver drops running 
off Copper Top’s satin skin. 

“At any rate in reason,” he concluded, and returned to 
his desk and his manuscript. Became engrossed. Time! 
A delusion. The Present was governed by the Future 
as well as the Past . . . undoubtedly. . . . His book, it 
would prove that. . . . 

He became more engrossed. 

Mistress Jones had many interesting conversations 
during the next few weeks with Copper Top. When at 
home his favourite spot was the broad ledge of the kitchen 
window-sill in company with Sandy Puss and as many 
kittens as happened to be going at the moment. They 
played together with the wisteria sprays, both flower and 
leaf being admirably adapted for the purpose. The ten- 


62 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


drils swayed to Copper Top’s laughter, the blossoms rang 
to it. It was then also, when he lay along the window-sill 
with his lovely bare feet waving in the air and his chin 
in his two hands, that he and Mistress Jones had their 
heart-to-heart talks. 

They had one after her talk with the Professor, and 
the upshot of this particular talk was, that Mistress Jones 
went into Fairbridge one afternoon and came back with 
some rolls of soft fine silk in various glorious colours 
which are the product of vegetable dyes, and a copy of 
James Stephens’ “Irish Fairy Tales” well and truly il¬ 
lustrated by Rackham. Mistress Jones was in many ways 
a very wise woman. 

She read the Fairy Tales aloud in the long evenings 
at opportune moments, and she made Copper Top little 
fairy-like garments out of the silk, all in one piece, and 
the boy wore them from sheer delight in their colour. 
They wore well, because the price of these silks was such 
that even the Professor noticed it on the bill, and they 
were almost more beautiful when stained and worn 
than when new. Copper Top gleamed and shone 
about the place like some wondrous insect. He loved 
the colours. The little garments felt good too. Like 
flower petals. He would stroke them with his fine long 
fingers. 

“Why don’t you have clo’s like me?” he asked the 
Professor, and the Professor became more awful in the 
eyes of the outside world in the way of ties and socks 
than ever, while Mistress Jones discarded her respectable 
grey and drab garments and astonished those who came 
by appearing in gowns of pale yellow and of lavender. 
When they first appeared Copper Top danced in front 
of her with glee. He danced always if anything pleased 
him very much. Sometimes swiftly like a whirling leaf 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 63 

in a high wind, sometimes slowly like a little drifting 
cloud. 

“But the boy cannot go to school in scarlet silk,” ob¬ 
jected the Professor. 

“It is a beginning,” said Mistress Jones. 

She sat in the evenings when her work was done and 
thought. The boy had to go to school. Had to. Of 
course. She would lose him. These wonderful years 
when he had belonged to her, like a bird in the mother 
nest before it flies, were nearly over. Nearly over. She 
thought of the joy and beauty of them. Thought of the 
lovely little naked body dancing in the sun and the wind, 
slipping in and out over the window-sill, nestling against 
her with the soft flutter of a bird or butterfly. It would 
soon be only a memory. Already she knew the prison 
walls were closing round the boy. There was no escape 
for him or for her. He must become more like other 
boys, she must see to it that he did, must help him build 
a wall of protection. The Professor . . . God bless the 
man . . . was buried again in his book. 

He came up out of it at odd times, and talked to Copper 
Top learnedly, chiefly of the History of Man, when he 
was not too interested in what Copper Top talked about 
to him. He also gave orders that he and the boy should 
have their meals together, an admirable arrangement 
when both of them remembered to have them at the same 
time. 

Mistress Jones thought on. The Professor was, among 
his other vagaries, a vegetarian. What would Copper 
Top think when he saw one of his beloved friends neatly 
trussed and roasted on a piece of fried bread, and found 
he was expected to eat it? She recalled the day when 
wandering far afield, he had found a baby rabbit caught 
round its body in a steel trap. He had carried it home 


6 4 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


to her, bleeding to death in his little arms. The blood 
was running in drips down his naked body. His eyes 
accused the whole world. When it was all over he was 
terribly and violently sick. He had never been sick in all 
his life before. 

After that Copper Top believed in “devils.” He had 
discovered cruelty. 

Mistress Jones remembered this . . . remembered 
other things. The boy would have to know what cruelties 
there were in the world. He had to take his place in it. 
It had not been fair to bring him up like this, conscious 
only of life and beauty, of the gentle kindliness towards 
all things that radiated in and around the Little House. 
He had got to take his place in the World, in the World 
of Men as men had made it. 

Copper Top’s lovely laughter, as he fled among the 
autumn leaves like a little wind, came vibrating across 
the field and rippled in at the open window. 

What place was there for him in the World of Men? 
But he had to take his place there. The Professor’s 
words haunted her. Memories of her own came back. 
Her girlhood on the shore of an Irish lake, among the 
hills. Lapping water full of dreams, singing hills full of 
mystery. And then her marriage . . . the years, the 
terrible years, of her married life. She felt cold and 
sick. Copper Top. . . . She got up and moved about in 
a purposeless way. Was there no way of escape? What 
had brought a thing like Copper Top into this world at 
all? What were They doing? She covered her mouth 
swiftly with her hand as if to keep the thought from ex¬ 
pressing itself. She looked round her beautiful friendly 
kitchen with fear in her eyes. Copper Top. . . . He 
must take his place in the world. 

She made herself busy. They should have potato cakes 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


65 


for supper. Presently Copper Top came in, sweet and 
wild out of the wind. He was in one of his mad moods; 
the great equinoctial gales always had a strange effect on 
him. He whirled through the Little House singing. 
Wanky leaped round him giving little excited yelps. They 
chased each other in at the door, and out over the win¬ 
dow-sill, and round and round Mistress Jones, until she 
cried to them to have done. Then they burst in upon 
the Professor, who was about landing Man in his final 
and irretrievable disaster. 

They stood one on each side of him, Wanky with his 
paws on the table and his great tail striking against the 
Professor’s chair, Copper Top erect, vibrating with life. 
He did not touch the Professor. He rarely touched any¬ 
thing if he could help it, but the life that vibrated from 
his little glowing body was a tangible thing that could be 
felt. 

“God bless my soul! What’s that!” exclaimed the Pro¬ 
fessor, and looked up. Then he looked at Copper Top, 
and then he looked at Wanky, and then he ascended out 
of the Pit which Man had dug for himself. 

“Well!” he said. “What is it?” 

“ ’Dophin,” said Copper Top, that was the nearest he 
had ever got to the Mr. Godolphin which the Professor 
had decided was a proper mode of address for the boy to 
use. “The Big Winds have come.” 

The Professor stroked the head which Wanky’s per¬ 
sistent nuzzling called his attention to, and looked at 
Copper Top. Reading? Yes ... of course ... he 
had told Kathleen. . . . 

“Copper Top,” he said. “How are you getting on with 
your reading?” 

“I can sing it,” was Copper Top’s seemingly incon¬ 
sequent reply. He drew back a few paces and fluted the 


66 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


whole alphabet from end to end, ran up and down it, as 
it were, in liquid cadenzas. Then he pirouetted all round 
the room on his twinkling bare feet. 

“Come out, ’Dophin!” he called. “Come out! Come 
out! Come out!” 

Wanky barked a chorus and the Professor left Man in 
his Pit and rose up. 

Outside the Great Winds tore shouting above the Little 
House and across the tree tops; and gold, crimson, and 
brown, the leaves fell in whirling showers. As usual 
when he enticed the Professor out Copper Top went on 
in front, moving swiftly here and there, disappearing 
and coming back. In his little garment of crimson silk 
he flitted among the fallen leaves almost as one of them. 
He led the Professor on and away to the great uplands of 
the forest, where the winds sped unchecked, drenched 
with pungent autumn fragrance, across the gold and 
bronze of bracken and heather. It seemed to the Profes¬ 
sor that the child blew with the wind. 

“School? Yes ... he must go to school. Of course 

-” The Professor panted a little breasting the hill. 

“Every boy should go to school. He would have to earn 
his own living . . . every man ought to be independent 
. . . earn his living . . . um . . . yes. . . .” The 
Professor remembered a brief but awful period in his 
early life when, after a stormy career at Cambridge, he 
had sat on a stool in a business office, until a Heaven sent 
legacy delivered him. He remembered the various other 
lads who had sat with him . . . the older men, who had 
reached the dizzy heights of Heads of Departments. In¬ 
dependent! Good Lord! Poor devils . . . yes . . . 
there was Trelawny who wanted to be an artist ... his 
pictures were dreadful . . . still . . . who loathed books 
and figures and offices . . . and Lowder who had a wife 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 67 

... a delicate wife . . . and small children . . . quite 
a number of them . . . dreadful ... he remembered. 
All earning their own living. Independent. Good Lord! 
What a name for it. Why they had all been dependent 
. . . hopelessly dependent ... on that beastly office . . . 
he could see its face now, and the brass slit of the letter 
box, winking at him as he scurried round the corner one 
quarter of a minute late. Hopelessly dependent on it, and 
the wizened old man at the head of it, sitting like a little 
Almighty in the innermost sanctum of sanctums. Ugh! 
With what a deadly and consuming hatred he had hated 
it all on a fine morning. He had a vision of Copper Top 
caught up in the same machine. It made him feel sick. 
It was like a little rabbit Copper Top had brought home. 
Yet a man should work. Undoubtedly a man should 
work! His own work was good work . . . nobody had 
ever really listened to him . . . but good work . . . 
useful work. The lessons of History . . . wonderful. 
. . . His mind descended into the Pit Man has dug for 
himself. The long horrors of Man’s history, ending in 
the culminating horror of the Great War, surged round 
him, screamed in the wind, made faces at him. Copper 
Top. What would Copper Top’s work be? What could 
it be . . . ? 

A small hand, light as a feather, pulsing with life, 
dropped into his own like a wandering flower. The 
Professor let it lie there. He knew better by now than 
to close his hand upon it. The boy skipped along beside 
him, singing as they went, one of his curious songs with¬ 
out words. The winds picked it up and carried it on. 
The Professor cheered up. He began to sing too. Some 
forgotten well of youth within bubbled up, bringing mem¬ 
ories gay and glad. Old songs . . . were they old or 
eternally new ? He recaptured something, something that 


68 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


can shine and sing even in the Pit. Something . . . surely 
it was the same . . . yet how could it be? . . . Still it 
was ... the same something that had sung and shone 
all those years ago when he had been what men call “in 
love.” Great shining words came back to him, and music, 
like the sunlight of the high hills. He began to sing 
. . . he could still sing. . . . Why not? He liked it. 
Um—yes . . . what was that song that Margot used 
to sing? The lark—something about—yes— 


“The lark now leaves his watery nest 
And climbing shakes his dewy wings.” 

He sang all the way home after Copper Top had left 
him and flitted away far over the heights. He sang as he 
stepped over the threshold of the Little House with his 
head in the air, so that he missed a slug who was making 
silver tracks across the stone step, and Mistress Jones in 
the kitchen, said “God bless Himself.” 

He swept “The Human Fiasco” to one side of his table 
and extracted a legal document from a drawer. He 
wrote a letter to his lawyer with such determination that 
it almost amounted to ferocity. He held his beard up 
firmly with his left hand as he wrote. 

A codicil—yes—that was the thing. All Margot’s 
money must go back to her own people of course. That 
invaluable legacy from his Uncle Richard, that must go 
to his brother Hervey’s family. They were poor . . . 
miserably poor . . . eight children! The Professor 
snorted. Birth restrictions . . . um . . . very necessary. 
Too many people . . .far too many. He allowed Hervey 
the interest on the money already. Had to. Common 
humanity. The Professor consulted his bank book. Also 
a neat list of investments in a ledger. Surprisingly neat 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


69 


to anyone who judged James Godolphin by such signs as 
you would judge any ordinary man. He looked at it with 
some pride and astonishment himself. 

“Fanny the factor’s daughter,” he muttered, and 
laughed. He alluded to the lapse of a grandfather, who 
had married outside what was then a very close ring 
fence. 

He added up the figures. Again he was reminded of 
that very brief period when he had sat on a stool at a 
desk. A dreadful business. Little Copper Top. He made 
a final calculation, unclutched his beard, leaned back in 
his chair, and beamed. He had done extraordinarily well. 
His books sold . . . undoubtedly they sold! Possibly 
people not so foolish as they appeared . . . still, never 
followed his advice . . . why read? But they did read 
. . . the proof was here. . . . 

He looked at entries of cheques from his publisher in 
his bank book. “Extraordinarily well,” he murmured. 
There was enough for Copper Top to be independent. A 
man should be independent. He need never sit at a desk. 
Dreadful business. There was quite enough to keep him 
comfortably. Luxuries . . . um . . . the Professor took 
hold of his beard again. Luxuries . . . young fellows 
liked . . . Copper Top. ... He saw the swift feet on 
the grass, the shining head around which the birds flew. 
He heard the song which joined with the water, the flame, 
and the air. These were Copper Top’s luxuries. The 
Professor smiled. He resumed his letter and then came 
to a sudden stop. 

“God bless my soul!” he said. “The boy’s name. He 
hasn’t got a name . . . not a proper name. God bless 
my soul!” 

He ought to have had the boy christened. Of course 
he ought. He had meant to. Unimportant details, they 


70 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


always escaped him. Could an unchristened child inherit 
... or was it they could not be buried . . . ? 

“I am as hazy about these matters as Marion!” ex¬ 
claimed the Professor, and chuckled. 

Marion! She ought to be back in the spring. He was 
glad. He could consult her about the boy . . . and 
school. He would have to go to school, of course. Cop¬ 
per Top and School! The combination remained so 
hopeless that the Professor gave it up. He would talk 
it over with Marion. An unreasonable woman in many 
ways, but with understanding. He added various ques¬ 
tions to the letter to his lawyer, sealed it up, addressed 
and stamped it, and felt his mind relieved. 

He returned to Man in his Pit. . . . Man ... a regret¬ 
table accident. . . . The subject was not so engrossing as 
usual. . . . Boys’ schools. He remembered when he had 
gone to his first school . . . there were experiences. 
. . . Copper Top. . . . He actually became conscious of 
a murmur of sound coming from the kitchen, and pre¬ 
sently he left the Pit and, stealing down the passage, 
looked in at the kitchen door. Copper Top sat in his 
usual attitude before the fire, cross-legged and cross- 
armed. His little body looked as if carved in gold. The 
flames shot up, many-hued, crimson and heliotrope and 
green. Mistress Jones sat erect in her chair among the 
shadows reading aloud by the firelight. Reading James 
Stephens’ exquisite prose. Its melody of shining words 
was perfectly rendered in her soft Irish voice. There 
are no people who speak English so well as the Irish. 
Copper Top listened. Every now and then he sang a 
few notes, as a bird flutes in its nest. The Professor 
noticed that when the words were more than usually 
full of music it was then Copper Top sang. 

School. , . . The ugly surroundings in class-rooms 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


7i 


... in dormitories. No beauty but that of the boys 
themselves . . . the boys with their clear eyes . . . the 
clean light on their eager glowing faces. . . . 

The boy would have to take his place in the world. 

The Professor moved restlessly on, out of the back door 
into the garden. The wind had dropped with the sun. 
A deep peace brooded. The garden was sweet with the 
clean, pungent smell of autumn flowers. The cactus 
dahlias were amazing this year . . . simply amazing. 

. . . There had been none so fine at the Horticultural 
Show. Copper Top. . . . The boy would have to take 
his place in the world . . . school. . . 

The Professor went back into the kitchen and sat down 
among the firelight and shadows and listened with Copper 
Top to the story of Fionn, the son of Uail. 

The boy heard as one entranced. Over the clear shin¬ 
ing of his little face the thoughts passed. They gleamed 
in smiles. They shivered in excitement. They shone in 
achievement. 

“The book sings/’ said Copper Top. “I will learn to 
read/’ 


CHAPTER IV 


The answer from the lawyers, Messrs. Greer and Sons, 
came in due time; a long typewritten affair. It was 
legally possible to leave money to a cat or a parrot so 
long as you definitely specified which cat or parrot. In¬ 
deed it appeared that it had quite frequently been done, 
and upheld in the law courts, in spite of all the efforts of 
those Members of the Human Kingdom who claimed 
kinship with the Testator. It was not a sign of an un¬ 
sound mind. It also appeared that the Professor could 
give Copper Top any name that seemed to him desirable, 
and the name would be quite valid for testamentary 
purposes. 

“Errmph!” grunted the Professor after wading 
through the letter twice, “I could have said it in a dozen 
words a good deal plainer!” 

The Head of the Firm, who was an old friend, added a 
postscript in his own hand. “Better have the boy chris¬ 
tened. Usual thing. Saves complications.” 

But would it? Tom Greer did not know Copper Top. 
The Professor’s imagination entirely failed to picture the 
boy, respectably clad, led by himself and Mistress Jones 
into Mentmore Church to be baptised. The Professor 
sniffed audibly. He smelt—smelt quite vividly—the 
damp, musty smell peculiar to churches. They would 
never get Copper Top inside. He would struggle, just 
like the new black puppy, a stray by courtesy called a 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


73 

Pomeranian, had struggled that morning to get away 
from a very necessary bath. 

The Professor grinned. He could see Copper Top 
fleeing away among the old grey tombstones, naked to 
the world, having left his garments behind in that eel¬ 
like fashion of his. He could see the little parson’s 
horrified face. He knew that he himself would say 
exactly what from the parson’s point of view he ought 
not to say. Tchut! Tchut! He ought to have had the 
thing done when the boy was a baby. Marion had told 
him to. Save complications—um—yes. ' But what was 
to be done? Marion? She would be back next spring. 
In the meantime the boy was learning to read. He must 
devote a portion of time daily to instructing him in the 
habits of Man. Peculiar habits—um—Copper Top 

would think- Goodness knew what Copper Top 

would think! 

He drew a sheet of foolscap towards him and wrote: 

“Dear Greer, —Boy’s name is James Godolphin, 
hitherto known as Copper Top. Get on with codicil. 
Baptism must wait. Yours, «j q „ 

He addressed and stamped and muttered. 

“Habits! Peculiar habits- Now in the sixteenth 

century what do we find-?” 

“The Human Fiasco’’ gripped him again. 

For the next two months it engrossed him to the ex¬ 
clusion of aught else. And then something happened. 
Archdeacon Pinniger came to call. 

It was that most wonderful thing in a forest, a perfect 
winter day. The sky was transparently blue. The wind 
had freed the trees from the crisp snow which lay two 
inches deep on the ground. The delicate tracery of 




74 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


bough and twig showed in exquisite perfection. Here 
and there, in sheltered places, the beech leaf copper 
gleamed above the snow; here and there the emerald of 
moss shone, strewn with frost diamonds. Otherwise the 
white carpet stretched untouched, save for the marks of 
little feet where furred and gentle creatures had padded 
to and fro. 

The Archdeacon enjoyed his walk. He was a believer 
in exercise. “Mens sana in corpore sano,” he quoted to 
himself, as he often did when covering the ground at the 
rate of three and a half miles an hour. He was what 
Fairbridge considered “rather inclined to be High,” but 
he did not approve of fasting, he believed in exercise. 
Nature’s method. Though that too must not be carried 
too far. Moderation in all things was the golden mean. 
His pace relaxed as he began to climb the hill through the 
forest. In spite of moderation and exercise the Arch¬ 
deacon was a portly man and getting on in years. He 
looked like some large black beetle climbing up and up 
over the shining snow among the sparkling trees. The 
life of the woods fled long before he could become cog¬ 
nisant of it. Nothing to his sight or hearing stirred. 
The Archdeacon was what is commonly called an animal 
lover. But he was also a man who firmly believed that 
all that lived and moved and breathed on the face of the 
globe had been placed there solely for the use and pleasure 
of Man. That was the purpose with which God had 
created all things. The Archdeacon had no doubt of it 
whatever. The Professor grubbing about in the Pit 
Man has digged for himself had the .very gravest 
doubts. 

At any rate no little grey rabbits scurried across the 
Archdeacon’s path, no birds flew round him, no squirrel 
peeped down with bright eyes as he passed. The still- 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


75 


ness, the glittering cold, the blaze of white, became almost 
oppressive as he continued to climb. He wondered how 
any man could elect to live thus cut off from his fellows. 
Most peculiar. Something in the family. Yes. This 
child he had taken in was no doubt an interest. But what 
a mad thing to do! A gipsy foundling. Mad! Some¬ 
thing in the family. Genius was often allied . . . 

The cold stillness which he had begun to find so op¬ 
pressive was shivered by a child’s laugh, and the bark 
of a dog wild with delight. The Archdeacon hurried up 
the few remaining yards of the forest path and came out 
into the open on to one of the prettiest sights—he con¬ 
fessed it willingly—that he had ever seen. 

Across the smooth white surface of the field a small 
black ball of fur, mad with glee, played with the shining 
powdered snow like a thing joy-possessed. Its absorbed 
wonder and delight in this amazing thing which it had 
found radiated through the air. The Archdeacon burst 
out laughing, and the child’s laugh rang out again, echo¬ 
ing his own. He turned and saw a slender little figure 
in scarlet with his arm round the neck of a sheep dog. 
Many thoughts jumbled together in the Archdeacon’s 
mind all at once. 

This must be the foundling. Most inadequately clad 
... in scarlet . . . very odd . . . most unsuitable . . . 
fustian. . . . The child’s arms and legs were bare. In 
this weather . . . most inadequate. The child must be 
frozen. 

The boy, however, did not appear to be suffering from 
cold. He was indeed all aglow. Exercise of course. A 
wonderful thing. He was a good-looking child, with 
curious eyes, extraordinarily blue, and set rather wide 
apart. They danced with mirth and laughter. His nose 
was small and straight, his mouth wide, with humorous 


76 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


corners. His teeth were beautiful, white with the white- 
ness of milk nuts. The Archdeacon had seen a face like 
it somewhere. Where could it have been? Years ago. 
It came back to him with a blue sky, warm, not cold like 
to-day, a blue sky and a sound of singing ... in Greece 
somewhere . . . years ago. The recollection slipped 
away. He could recall no more. 

“And what is your name, young man?” he asked. 

“James ’Dophin,” answered Copper Top. The Pro¬ 
fessor had instructed him on the matter. 

“Dear me!” murmured the Archdeacon to himself. 
Godolphin must have adopted the boy, had even gone so 
far as to give him his own name. Most unwise. Always 
a risky thing, and this boy was probably of gipsy blood. 
There was no knowing what. ... Yet the boy was ex¬ 
tremely nice-looking, with an air of breeding even. . . . 

Copper Top continued to stare at him. Not rudely, 
but much as a deer will stand and gaze at something un¬ 
usual and unexpected. 

“What are you?” he asked. 

“An intelligent child, too,” thought the Archdeacon. 
He had evidently recognised that there was something 
unusual about the visitor. Pleasant words by admirers 
flitted through his brain. “A man of outstanding presence 
. . . um . . . ah!” No doubt, also, the child noticed his 
dress. 

“Well, little man,” he said, “they call me an Arch¬ 
deacon, but I expect you haven’t learnt yet what that is. 
Are you not very cold with no warm clothing on?” 

“I am not,” said Copper Top. 

He skipped round the visitor to see what he looked 
like from behind, and decided he was like one of the big 
black crows except for the funny ugly hat he wore. 

“Is Mr. Godolphin at home?” asked the Archdeacon. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


77 


“He is,” said Copper Top, and fled away across die 
snow towards the house with both dogs shrieking with 
joy at his heels. 

They all tumbled in at the study window, bringing a 
powdered diamond shower with them. The Professor 
was half buried in his armchair before the fire, his pipe 
in his mouth, engrossed in a book. 

“There is an Arch-dee-con wants to see you, and he’s 
like a funny black bird,” announced Copper Top, when 
the three had, between them, impressed the outer world 
upon him. 

“A what! Good Lord!” The Professor groaned. 
The Archdeacon. Baptism! Christening! He had 
heard . . . but how could he? The little parson at 
Mentmore. An interfering little prig. Like a pink 
prawn. Of course . . . that was it. 

The Professor groaned again. He looked at Copper 
Top. 

“Did you tell . . . but of course you did. I am.” 

He rose and ran the fingers of both hands through his 
hair. That likeness to a poacher which the Archdeacon 
had once observed became apparent. A trapped poacher. 
He looked at the window. But already knocks by a firm 
hand using a stout stick were sounding on the front door. 

The dogs barked. Copper Top danced up and down. 

“What does he want?” he asked. 

“You!” said the Professor suddenly, and laughed. 

Copper Top had vanished, almost like a conjuring trick, 
into thin air. Wanky followed him. The small bunch 
of black fur alone remained, jumping and scratching and 
yelping below the window. The Professor picked it up 
and dropped it out into the snow. The knocks on the 
front door started again, and he heard Kathleen coming 
out of the kitchen. 


78 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


He took up a commanding position on the hearth-rug, 
that position which always seems to give a man con¬ 
fidence, and listened with outstretched beard to the Arch¬ 
deacon’s resonant voice saying a few pleasant words with 
regard to seasonable weather. 

Why couldn’t people leave him alone? What business 
was it of Pinniger’s? . . . And yet it was his business. 
That was the whole difficulty. It was insufferable that 
Copper Top should be Pinniger’s business. 

And then the Archdeacon was upon him. His big 
frame filled the low doorway. His big voice filled the 
room. He appeared to the Professor as the personifica¬ 
tion of the Church triumphant and militant. 

He took possession of the Professor with a ringing 
cordiality. “Well! Well!” he said, “I am indeed pleased 
to have found you out at last!” 

“Found out’’ . . . Child not christened . . . Holy 
Baptism. . . . The Professor jingled the words together 
as he cleared a chair. 

“I should perhaps rather say found you disengaged,” 
the Archdeacon went on, while noting that there were 
bones on the hearth (a pity not to keep dogs in their 
proper place) and that the Professor wore no collar. 
“Believe me, I disturb you with considerable reluctance. 
But it is an important matter brings me here to-day. An 
important, and, I feel you will agree with me, an in¬ 
teresting matter.” 

He spread himself out before the fire and beamed. 

The Professor retreated to his writing-table chair. As 
a matter of fact it was impossible for any man to retain 
possession of the hearth-rug if the Archdeacon was on 
his feet. “Christening. Holy Baptism.” They rung 
the changes through his brain like bells. 

“I had a piece of great good news only this morning,” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


79 


the Archdeacon continued, and wondered why the Pro¬ 
fessor should look startled. “Nothing less than an ac¬ 
ceptance from Sir Elwyn Clough to speak on ‘The Down¬ 
fall of the Darwinian Theory’ at the Pump Room on 
January the 27th. A Wednesday. That, as you know, 
is early closing day, which will enable all classes to be 
present!” 

“Quite so !” exclaimed the Professor, and stifled an 
inclination to burst out laughing. He was getting a 
perfect fool over the boy. Still the christening was of 
importance. He ought to have seen to it when Copper 
Top was an infant. “Quite so. Won’t you sit 
down?” 

“I am anxious to use this unique opportunity to the 
full,” the Archdeacon was proceeding in his most im¬ 
pressive manner. “People will gladly pay to attend, and 
I hope to raise a substantial sum towards the debt on our 
Parish Hall.” 

“An excellent idea,” agreed the Professor cordially, 
and wondered what he had to do with it. 

“It struck me,” continued the Archdeacon, “that it 
would be an enormous additional attraction if I could 
induce you to take the chair for Sir Elwyn, and”—his 
voice became rich with persuasion—“to say a few words 
yourself on this most interesting and important subject.” 

“But God bless my soul, why should I?” asked the 
Professor. “Get the Duke, he’s the proper person.” 

“The Duke is always most kind—most kind,” said the 
Archdeacon, “but he is no speaker like yourself, Mr. 
Godolphin. Nor would he be in any way—if I may use 
the expression—such a draw as you would ...” 

The Professor snorted. “Punch and Judy Show! 
Errmph. All the public are fit for . . .” 

The Archdeacon held up a protesting hand. 


8 o 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“No! No! Believe me, we have appreciation. The 
enormous circulation of your books alone surely proves 
that.” 

“Punch and Judy Show!” repeated the Professor. “I 
have a pretty wit, sir. But do they read to learn any¬ 
thing? Errmph! No. They read because I amuse 
them, and then they raise hands of pious horror and call 
me blasphemous. Do they expect me to fall down and 
worship the Fetishes they have set up? But they like to 
see me knocking them down all the same. It makes them 
laugh. Errmph!” 

“One must use discretion,” said the Archdeacon tact¬ 
fully. In spite of his genuine admiration for much of 
the Professor’s work, he undoubtedly thought that it did 
at times verge on the blasphemous. But it was not the 
moment to express this opinion, though undoubtedly 
within his province to do so. Some other time, perhaps. 
One must use discretion. 

The Professor snorted, and the Archdeacon continued. 

“But about the Lecture, Mr. Godolphin. I am most 
anxious the affair should be a success, for the debt on our 
Hall is a disgrace to the Parish. With you in the chair 
there should be no doubt of it. Sir Elwyn is a most 
charming person. Perhaps you already know him?” 

“I do,” said the Professor. “A fool! But well-mean¬ 
ing. Wrote a book to prove that if human beings had 
no teeth they would be perfectly healthy.” 

“Ha! Ha!” The Archdeacon threw his head back 
and gave what the ladies of his parish called “that infec¬ 
tious laugh” of his. “A little eccentric in his views, 
perhaps—like so many eminent men—yes. But his posi¬ 
tion in the medical world is second to none, I believe.” 

The Professor grunted. “Probably!” he said. Then 
he chuckled. He got a mental impression of Clough’s 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


81 


and the Archdeacon’s faces if he were to give some of 
his opinions with regard to the Darwinian Theory. He 
heard the restless movements of an agitated Platform of 
the Leading People in the Place behind him. He saw his 
audience. Startled, alarmed. Then he gripped them. 
They began to smile. Laughter broke out. Applause. 
They were alive—interested—actually thinking. . . . 
And Clough’s and the Archdeacon’s faces . . . 

There was a mischievous strain in the Professor’s com¬ 
position that no schoolboy could improve on. Unwit¬ 
tingly the Archdeacon had appealed to it. Also he had 
not come to worry about christening Copper Top. The 
Professor felt quite grateful to him. He would help him 
with the debate on his Parish Hall. 

“Very well,” he said, “but send me a line a few days 
before to remind me with time and place ... or I might 
forget.” 

The Archdeacon was frankly delighted. Everyone had 
told him that he would never get James Godolphin to 
speak, and he had once more accomplished what others 
thought impossible. He would call a meeting of the 
Lecture Committee at once and enjoy their astonishment 
and delight, also their admiration. He accepted an early 
cup of tea after his long walk, and examined the Profes¬ 
sor’s first editions with the discrimination of a connois¬ 
seur. The Professor began quite to enjoy his visit. Pin- 
niger had far more intelligence than he had given him 
credit for. 

And then, sipping that early cup of tea, the Archdeacon 
looked over the edge of it and said: 

“I met your little protege outside. A nice-looking boy 
with pleasant manners.” 

The Professor’s mind reverted with dislocating sud¬ 
denness to the Baptism of Infants. 


82 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


But as a matter of fact it never entered into the Arch¬ 
deacon’s head that the boy could possibly not be 
christened. His mind was further on. 

“And how is he getting on with his Catechism?” he 
asked, and laughed genially. “My duty to my neighbour, 
eh? Always a stiff fence.” 

The Professor’s mind groped back hurriedly into the 
past. “What is your name? M or N.” To this day 
he didn’t know why M or N. “My duty to my neigh¬ 
bour is to love him as myself.” Good Lord! Well, the 
boy loved all his neighbours, little neighbours of tree and 
hedge and hole. Never did he hurt or harm anything. 

“He’s getting on with it remarkably well,” he said 
firmly, and pressed the Archdeacon to take another cup 
of tea. 

“That is splendid,” said the Archdeacon. “No, no! 
Thanks very much. The one cup was most refreshing, 
and now I must be on my way home. It is a long walk.” 

He considered for a moment if he should ask the boy 
to come one day and play with his own two boys, but 
decided that it would be wiser to consult Mrs. Pinniger 
first. The lad might have picked up some queer habits 
living up here, and no doubt left a good deal to the ser¬ 
vants. Also there was his origin. Yes, certainly it must 
be talked over first. But he would like to help Godolphin. 
It had been good of him to adopt the boy, though very 
imprudent. A Christian action. And the influence of his 
own boys would undoubtedly be good. 

So he thought, as he wound his way down over the 
crisp snow. The sun was just dipping behind the far 
hill, a ball of red fire. A beautiful evening. Then his 
mind returned to the Lecture. He was very glad he had 
secured Godolphin. He would call a Committee Meeting 
for the next day. He chuckled when he thought of Mrs. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 83 

Horace Jones’ face. She had been so positive that Godol- 
phin would refuse. 

In the meantime the Professor sat over the fire and 
read the Catechism. 


CHAPTER V 


The following Spring produced, quite extraordinarily, a 
long spell of really fine weather. Not an odd week here 
and there, but steady, consistent, fine weather. Day after 
day men woke up to brilliant sunshine, to cloudless skies. 
It began in April and went on through May. Unharmed 
by cold rains or winds the flowers of Spring arrayed 
themselves in perfection, and the countryside became a 
bower fit for fairy queens and spirits of the land of 
dreams. 

People shook their heads and prophesied: “We shall 
pay for this later,” but June came, bearing her roses and 
lilies, and payment was not demanded. Still the sun rose 
each morning in a fair sky. Through days of undimmed 
beauty, earth, sea and sky laughed and shone and sang, 
and had no complaint to make of anything. People said 
to each other, “Isn’t this heat awful?” Some prophesied 
terrible disaster to the crops, and there were ominous 
rumours as to a world shortage in water. The papers 
were full of both. Also a man had shot an unknown bird 
in Bedfordshire. The ornithologists quarrelled with ex¬ 
ceeding bitterness over its identity. But still, what was 
now becoming among the record spells of fine weather 
continued. 

Copper Top lived through wonderful days in the great 
forest. He danced in the pools of sunlight among the 
trees. He fled, a small radiant vision, along their cool, 
84 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 85 

dim alleys and in and out between their shining trunks. 
He floated with fluffy black baby dab-chicks on the ponds. 
He sat, a little cross-legged god, among the garden flowers, 
with the bees and butterflies flitting round him, settling 
on him as though he too were a flower. For hours he 
rocked on some topmost branch of the great beech trees. 
When the massed leaves tossed like plumes in the light 
wind he lay among them, and sang to the wide skies his 
strange wild songs which had no words. He loved it 
all, and best of all the Winds both great and small. The 
Big Winds that brought him glad and cheerful messages 
among the tree tops, the Little Winds that wandered 
singing among the grasses. 

The Professor decided that lessons should be dropped 
while the fine weather lasted. As a matter of fact it 
could hardly be said with truth that they had ever com¬ 
menced, but when Copper Top was walking like an 
ordinary mortal upon the earth the Professor sometimes 
in the cool evenings left his work to wander with him, 
and on one of these occasions he had suddenly decided 
that they were opportunities to instruct the boy. Botany 
now? Or Entomology? The Professor had dabbled in 
both in the days of his youth. Yes—it was an excellent 
idea. But when a butterfly settled on Copper Top’s shin¬ 
ing head, then flitted on to his outstretched finger, and 
he played with it like some strange conjurer, the Profes¬ 
sor’s lore, culled with the aid of a poisoned bottle and a 
pinned-down body, seemed somehow strangely out of 
place. He remembered details of his acquaintance with 
butterflies, the fat blue bottle with a wide neck and a 
screw top, the smell of crushed laurel leaves, the old 
stained board on which he had pinned the frail little 
bodies, the pins and narrow strips of paper which he had 
used to fasten out their wings. He remembered various 


86 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


facts with regard to antennae and the thorax. If you 
could pinch the latter without crushing the whole body 
to pieces, death was instantaneous, and preferable to the 
bottle. 

Yet after all what did he know about the creatures? 
By this time Copper Top had attracted several other but¬ 
terflies and one large bumble bee to himself. No doubt 
they had their own interests, their own outlook upon life 
and things in general. One of the butterflies, a dainty 
Painted Lady, was sitting in the palm of the boy’s hand 
looking at him. Yes, undoubtedly it was looking at* him. 
Possibly they had some sort of intelligence? Certainly 
something remarkable in the way of intelligent creative 
power had been concerned in the making of them. Were 
they really created solely that man might admire, kill, and 
classify them? Were they? 

The Professor decided not to impart his knowledge of 
entomology to the boy. He would certainly ask awkward 
questions. The Professor grinned to himself as a vision 
crossed his mind of the small frenzied whirlwind that 
would descend upon him if he ventured to recount the 
deeds of his youth with that blue bottle and the crushed 
laurel leaves. That reminded him—the boy must be 
cured of that habit of biting and kicking when his feel¬ 
ings were hurt. He must have a talk with him about 
it the next time it happened. Yes—of course it would 

never do to let him go to school without- Copper 

Top at school. It never failed to bring the Professor up 
short almost like a douche of cold water in his face. A 
boy did not bite and kick. Hitting—that was a different 
thing. Permissible—quite. Boxing—why not teach him 
to box? The Professor remembered he had been a bit 
of a bruiser himself at the Cambridge Boxing and Fancy 
Club. He pulled up among the lavender bushes and 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 87 

began to square his shoulders and throw his arms about, 
gingerly at first, then with more vigour. No—he had 
not forgotten. A bit stiff of course. The boy ought to 
make a fine light-weight boxer. Amazingly quick with 
eye, hand and foot. Yes, he would make a useful boxer. 
Other boys would not sneer at a fellow who could use his 
fists, even if he had a mania for not hurting flowers and 
butterflies and that sort of thing. He would teach him 
to box. It would help too to get rid of the habit of biting 
and kicking. Boxing teaches self-control. He felt his 
muscles, and went on squaring up and throwing his arms 
about. He felt he was still capable of dealing a knock¬ 
out blow on mark or point. He remembered once at 
Harrow . . . The Professor chuckled. 

“What are you doing that for, ’Dophin?” asked Cop¬ 
per Top. 

He had returned from a journey with the bumble bee, 
and was watching the Professor’s exertions with wide- 
open eyes of astonishment. 

“Seeing if I remember how to fight,” said the Profes¬ 
sor. 

“Were you a soldier once?” asked Copper Top. 

“No,” said the Professor, “I do not believe in War.” 

He looked at the small, slim, exquisite figure standing 
erect in front of him—the shining face—so alive. . . . 
How many of these wonderful, beautiful things had been 
torn to pieces, smashed out of existence, or brutally tor¬ 
tured and maimed and cast on the world’s rubbish heap, 
because Man was ruled by greed and fear. He looked, 
and he felt that he had not made his book strong 
enough. (As a matter of fact his Publisher’s hair nearly 
stood on end over various parts of it.) Not nearly 
strong enough! Why did not all the Churches—who 
professed to follow Christ—Ptcha—stand shoulder to 


88 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


shoulder in one body, and denounce War instead of 
encouraging it? Why did not the Women stand up and 
refuse to bear children? Why-? 

The Professor moved, muttering to himself like a 
retreating thunderstorm, out of the garden where it 
merged into the forest. Copper Top skipped beside him. 

“What is War?” he asked. 

War? The Professor sat down on the root of a 
neighbouring beech tree and began to talk. He gave a 
very learned and distinctly unorthodox Lecture on War. 
He was an able speaker when he could be persuaded to 
speak, which was but seldom. Copper Top liked the 
sound of the words he was using. He fell into his 
favourite attitude when he was really listening. 

At first the Professor was too engrossed in his subject 
to watch the effect it was having on his audience. In¬ 
deed he was not using his physical eyes at all. His Mind 
moved entirely among the images he was conjuring up. 
He missed the Thoughts which passed across the boy’s 
face as shadows across a mirror, so the sudden onslaught, 
as of a small whirlwind, took him completely by surprise. 
Copper Top gripped and shook him to and fro on his in¬ 
secure seat until he pulled him off on to the ground. 

“Stop!” he cried. “Stop. I won’t listen any more. 
I hate it. It’s beastly—it’s dirty-” 

A chorus of angry, frightened birds rang from among 
the trees and filled the air. 

The Professor sat on the ground his legs sticking out 
in front of him, his coat tails on either side, comically 
penitent and helpless. He looked at the hurt, quivering 
little face, and felt as if he had wiped something precious 
off it. He stammered, muttered, tried to explain, and 
ended with a humble: 

“I’m sorry, old chap.” 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


89 


“Who are the people, ’Dophin?” 

“They’re everywhere. All over the world,” answered 
the Professor desperately. What could you do with a 
boy like this. Most boys . . . 

“This world?” asked Copper Top. He looked round 
him. At the great spaces of sunshine, the cool wells of 
shadow. Everywhere there was an immense and radiant 
peace. The lit leaves swayed and flickered, far away 
in the tree tops they and the wind sang together. All 
round was the murmurous sound of busy, happy life. It 
was most good and glad. Its beauty crept back into his 
face, he loosed his hold of the Professor, and the Pro¬ 
fessor got up. The beech nuts were unpleasant to sit 
upon. Most unpleasant. 

“Copper Top,” he said “sometimes one has to fight. 
But a gentleman fights with—um—fights with-” 

“Do gentlemen fight in Wars?” interrupted Copper 
Top. 

The Professor looked at Copper Top under pent eye¬ 
brows for he saw whither the question tended, but he was 
loyal. 

“Yes,” he said firmly, “gentlemen fight in Wars. 
God bless them!” 

Copper Top turned on his heel and stretched two slim 
arms above his head. The birds came flying. 

“I will not fight in Wars,” he said. “I will not be 
a gentleman.” 

“Copper Top! Sometimes a man has got to fight. 
When he sees a helpless thing being hurt by someone 
stronger ” 

“Yes,” said Copper Top. He became attentive again. 

“But he fights like a gentleman. That is to say he 
uses fair weapons, weapons recognised among 
civilised-” 




9 o 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


He stopped and groaned. Civilised! Good Lord! 

Copper Top waited. 

“You fight for the right sort of things, old chap, but 
you fight with the wrong weapons. A gentleman does 
not fight with his teeth, or his nails, or his feet, he 
fights with his fists. . . 

“Though,” added the Professor to himself, “Heaven 
knows why one of these weapons should be more 
honourable than the other.” Therefore he was not sur¬ 
prised when Copper Top asked “Why?” 

Then he had an inspiration. 

“I do not know why,” he said. “It is the law.” 

Copper Top nodded. There was a law in his own 
green world which he did not understand, but it was 
not wise to disobey it. 

“Neither does a gentleman fly at an old fellow and 
shake him violently so that he falls to the ground,” the 
Professor went on, and his eyes twinkled. 

“That is right,” said Copper Top, “I ’pologise.” 

“Good!” said the Professor. “Further, a man should 
be able to protect and defend the weak, the helpless, and 
the oppressed; he should also be able to defend himself 
if attacked. Errmph—with his fists. . . . The scientific 
method of defence with fists is called Boxing. I will 
teach you to Box.” 

“I will fink about it,” replied Copper Top. 

He vanished up the beech tree which he specially 
affected. He loved the feel of its cool silver bark. He 
patted it with his fine slim fingers as he climbed. The 
little branches leaned towards him, the lit leaves danced 
about him. Higher and higher he climbed among the 
green-gold flickering sunbeams, higher and higher till 
he met the soft swirl of the summer winds and saw clear 
above him the little white clouds floating in the immensity 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


9 i 


of blue. Then he lay still, letting the branch he had 
chosen rock him at its will. His eyes looked up into 
the blue. They were as bits of it. He began to sing. 
Birds gathered round, they sang with him. 

Down below in the woodland path the Professor 
practised his boxing. Countering, straight lefts, it all 
came back to him. He was a bit stiff of course, but he 
had not forgotten. Copper Top would go out into the 
world able to defend his own head. ... At school they 
respected a boy . . . yes. A fellow who was light-weight 
champion, for instance, was safe from indignities. The 
Professor hit out with vigour—presently he felt his 
biceps. Flabby, decidedly flabby. There was a captive 
ball somewhere—where had he seen it—only the other 
day—Kathleen would know—yes. 

So the Professor ruminated, and then went in to tea. 

What Copper Top’s thoughts were as he sang to the 
skies that no man can know. When he came down he 
found the Professor dancing round a large brown globe 
which was apparently doing its level best to retaliate for 
the blows the Professor rained upon it by hitting him in 
the eye. 

Copper Top shouted with laughter. He found nothing 
at all surprising in the fact that the Professor and the 
Brown Ball were thus employed. The louder Copper 
Top laughed the more wildly the Professor hit out and 
the more violent became the Brown Ball’s efforts to get 
at him. 

Kathleen looked out of the kitchen door. 

“God bless the man,” she said. 

At last, breathless and dripping with perspiration, the 
Professor ceased, and carefully felt his biceps as if 
expecting them to have hardened already. He looked at 
Copper Top and expressed his thoughts aloud. 


9 2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Not so bad—um—no. Knock anybody down still— 
if necessary, sometimes very necessary. ,, 

Copper Top slipped a butterfly hand into his and went 
with him towards the garden. 

“If I find the Thing who set the Trap the rabbit was 
caught in may I knock it down?” he asked. 

He gave a skip of palpable anticipation as he spoke. 

“Um—ah—what ?” 

The Professor looked down sideways at the little 
figure. 

“It will be three times as big as you are,” he said. 

“I don’t care. May I?” 

“It could hurt you as badly as it hurt the rabbit,” 
said the Professor. To himself he was saying, “He 
must know. He must know. He’s got to get to school 
—take his place in the world—get knocked about—a boy 
must get knocked about. . . 

His hand closed involuntarily on the feather-light 
hand and in a second it was gone. Copper Top stood 
looking at him a few yards away. Of course the boy’s 
eyes were blue. 

“Not if I know how to box,” he said. “May I?” 

The Professor groaned—then he grunted—finally he 
laughed. 

“God bless the boy—yes.” 

“Then,” said Copper Top, “I will learn to box.” 

By the time the summer came the Professor had 
finished “The Human Fiasco,” and sent it off to his 
typist. His determination to keep Copper Top more 
with him became easier to carry out. He and the boy 
had long conversations together, in which he did his 
best to give him some idea of what “Life” was from 
the average human being’s point of view. It was 
unfortunate that the Professor’s idea of the average 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


93 


human being was a little out of the ordinary, was per¬ 
haps slightly prejudiced. Possibly the study of the 
History of Mankind does not give you a very favourable 
impression of the average human being. The Profes¬ 
sor’s studies had carried him even further. They had 
given him an unfavourable opinion of the Leaders of 
Men. He had come to the conclusion that Great Men, 
so-called, had always done far more harm than good 
in the world. A revolutionary idea, and one that Arch¬ 
deacon Pinniger would have considered extremely un¬ 
wise to instil into young people. 

The Professor gave Copper Top an impressionist out¬ 
line of the History of Man, from so far back as there 
was any Record of him up to the present time. He 
traced for him the rise and fall of great civilisations. 
He showed him how men had sown seed which had 
come to fruit hundreds of years after they themselves 
had passed away, in famines, in inquisitions, in wars, all 
growing more and more horrible the more man’s in¬ 
tellect developed. He showed how generation after 
generation continued to sow the same seed, even while 
their own teeth were set on edge by the fruit of that 
seed, sown by their fathers. “Will they never learn?” 
was the despairing cry of the Professor’s soul. Because, 
though no man gave him that credit, he really cared. He 
did his very best to present an unbiassed view to Cop¬ 
per Top. But when you really care that is a difficult 
thing to do. Therefore it is not to be wondered at that 
Copper Top arrived at the same conclusion as the Pro¬ 
fessor. Man was a regrettable accident in an otherwise 
admirable and well-managed Universe. 

Indeed what “Man” actually represented to Copper 
Top, at this stage in his career, was something in the 
nature of a Moving Mass which made for Evil. He did 


94 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


not connect the Professor with it, or the Cowboy, or 
the Postman, or the Keeper who came up sometimes 
to look after the deer. And most certainly Kathleen 
Beloved had nothing to do with it. 

The Magic of Words always appealed to the boy, and 
he would listen to good poetry or prose contentedly, 
whether he understood the meaning of it or not. One 
day the Professor in a fit of absent-mindedness read 
him a passage from Homer, in the original. The Pro¬ 
fessor had a beautiful sonorous voice when he allowed 
it to be so, and Copper Top went wild with delight. The 
Professor decided to teach him Greek. A boy who was 
a decent Greek scholar could hold his own with the Mas¬ 
ters. The Professor’s mind dwelt continually on the 
fact that Copper Top must learn to hold his own. 

He gave him lessons in Manners. When you met a 
woman you knew, out of doors, you took off your cap. 
As Copper Top so far had never worn a cap he taught 
him to salute. You greeted people by shaking their 
hand, and you said, or they did, “How do you do?” 
and “It is a pleasant day” or “Something equally fool¬ 
ish.” And you did not turn round and run away about 
your own business when you had said it. You stayed 
for a bit and tried to be pleasant, and answered their 
questions. They always asked questions. That was con¬ 
versation. Beyond this the Professor could not think of 
any other manners to teach him. The Music Lessons did 
not get much further. The Professor played the piano 
almost entirely by ear, and he played with considerable 
charm. He was a genuine music lover. After the first 
two lessons he and Copper Top discarded them by mu¬ 
tual consent. They had both lost their tempers. A 
thing so unprecedented that for some time at least Cop¬ 
per Top looked upon the piano as a personal enemy. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


95 


The long lovely days slipped by towards the end of 
June. The mystery and magic of Spring had merged 
into the wonder and fulfilment of summer. The Pro¬ 
fessor passed more and more of his time with Copper 
Top. Long hours in the green fragrance of the woods, 
in the wonder of sun and shade on russet carpets, among 
tall tree trunks that soared up and up and lifted their 
rustling whispering burden of leaves in silver outstretched 
arms to the kiss of the wind and the sun. Long hours 
lying in the beautiful spaces where the little breezes 
brought the scent of a thousand flowers and the mur¬ 
mur of myriads of small busy happy things; 
where the little streams came out into the full sunlight 
and danced and chuckled and fed great patches of 
meadowsweet and rose willow herb; where the honey¬ 
suckle was sweet on the warm air. He carried his 
books with him in his coat-tail pocket, but forgot to read 
and only remembered their existence when he happened 
to sit upon them. He had lived in the very heart of all 
this amazing thing for years and never before touched 
on even the outer fringe of the inner wonder of it. He 
had only remained here so long because he hated People. 
They annoyed him so with their foolishness. They made 
such a mess of things, such a criminal mess of things. 
He snorted and glared with rage and irritation when he 
thought of it all, even while he soaked in the cheerful 
peace of the great forest. He had to forcibly eject them 
from his mind. Why were they there at all ? Arrogating 
lordship of the Universe to themselves. It would 
be far better without them ... far better. His book 
would show. . . . But what was the good? Nobody 
listened! Some day People would come and destroy 
this bit of wonderful green world, full of happy con¬ 
tented creatures, and build hideous things all over it, 


96 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


and they would squabble and fight and manoeuvre each 
one to get more than the other. Ptcha. A dreadful 
business. 

Copper Top came to him through the silvery grasses 
and the myrtle bushes with his arm round the neck of a 
little soft-eyed deer. The boy rubbed his shining head 
against the deer’s as they came. More wonderful still 
the little black Pomeranian, in all good fellowship, ran 
with them. The animals were less shy with the Pro¬ 
fessor than they had been at first. He was always very 
still if Copper Top brought any of them near to him. 
And he loved the creatures. Taking them all round 
their lives were beautiful and well ordered. They en¬ 
joyed them, and did not make a horrible mess of their 
affairs and then howl for help to a God they had out¬ 
raged. Outraged! Yes. The Professor began to get 
into a passion again. He believed, as so many do, in a 
God, not the God of the Churches, but just some Great 
Inner Power that made for and desired Good. Out¬ 
raged ! 

Copper Top smiled at him, standing among the grasses 
and the myrtle with his arm round the little deer’s neck. 
Other thoughts sprang into the Professor’s mind. 
Quotations from the old Book. “The lamb shall lie 
down with the lion.’’ “They shall not hurt nor harm 
in all my holy mountain.” The Millennium. Errmph! 
People. . . . Good Lord! Stag-hunting and rabbit 
coursing. Traffic in old horses. Vivisection. Europe 
drowned in blood and horrors unspeakable. Naturally! 
What did People expect! 

There were birds flying round Copper Top’s head now. 
He left the deer and came to hunt in the Professor’s 
pocket for cake. He fed the birds out of one hand and 
Little Wolf with the other. Then he fled away again 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


97 


into the flickering light and shade of the forest, the deer 
and the dog running with him and the birds about his 
head. He shouted and sang as he went, a thing of the 
sun and the wind. He was strangely restless to-day, 
coming and going just to see how the Professor was 
getting on as it were. The Professor preferred it when 
he lay on the ground beside him flat on his little stomach, 
his beautiful feet waving, his chin in the palms of his 
hands, his bright eyes fixed, listening, intelligent, while 
the Professor held forth on many things. 

But to-day Copper Top never stayed for more than 
five minutes, and though the Professor had a learned and 
interesting treatise on some new archaeological discov¬ 
eries in his pocket, he had no desire to read it. The 
glory of the woodland world engrossed him in a quite 
extraordinary way. Something manifested through all 
that beauty. Something inexpressible ... a soul? 
Something above and beyond the beauty shone through 
. . . animated it. . . . No . . . something inside it 
... an inner thing. . . . 

The Professor tried to lay hold of it by a fierce effort 
of will. It was there. He knew it was there. Subtle 
and radiant and white with glory . . . more than all 
these . . . inexpressible. It must be possible to attain 
some knowledge of it ... it was within the limit of his 
consciousness. . . . His will fought to attain, but the 
effort failed. The lit leaves shivered with delight, a bird 
sang. It was inside it all. If he could reach just a 
fraction further he would grasp what it was. 

The Professor lay back among the soft grasses suddenly 
tired. It was tea-time. Yes ... he wanted his tea. 
He whistled for Copper Top, but the boy did not come. 
After tea the Professor sat in the garden among his 
flowers. He loved them very much. The silver sheen 


9 8 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


on the Madonna lily petals, their straight tall stems, 
their golden stamened hearts, their fragrance. The tex¬ 
ture of the rose leaves which Copper Top loved to stroke 
with his little fine fingers. The crimson roses among 
the purple lavender. A glory of colour and scent. He 
sat among them and still the learned treatise remained 
unread. That strange sense that something wonderful— 
inexpressible—shone through the beauty of all things did 
not return, but he felt that somehow he saw his flowers 
as he had never seen them before. Presently the sun 
dipped behind the big oak tree and little breezes came, 
filling the evening with fragrance. The Professor nodded 
in his chair. He muttered indistinguishable words. He 
fell fast asleep. 

He only woke up when Mistress Jones brought out his 
porridge and cream and some strawberries. 

“The boy?” he asked. “Has he been in?” 

“He has not,” answered Mistress Jones. Then she 
added rather suddenly, “I am thinking he will not be 
coming in to-night.” 

“Why not, Kathleen?” 

Mistress Jones looked round over the flowers, down 
into the great depths of the forest. 

“It is Midsummer Night’s Eve,” she said. Her voice 
was hardly above a whisper. She had that uncanny look 
upon her face which always annoyed the Professor. 
He knew too that she had ideas concerning Copper Top 
which she imparted to no man not even to himself. 
That also annoyed him. 

“Well!” he grunted. “What of it?” 

Mistress Jones observed him. His face showed more 
anxious interest than he knew. She moved a little nearer 
and dropped her soft voice lower yet. 

“There will be those that are kin to him abroad to- 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


99 


night,” she whispered. “It is the hour. The woods 
know it and the creatures, and would he not be knowing 
it too, God bless him?” 

She slipped away in her noiseless fashion, and left the 
Professor with his porridge spoon poised in mid-air. 

So that was it! A Fairy Changeling or some such 
nonsense of that sort. Of course. Ireland was full of 
these legends . . . his old nurse . . . yes, of course, full 
of them. Undines and Air Sylphs who slipped through 
into human bodies as their rightful owners slipped out. 
.... Midsummer Night’s Eve. Shakespeare had used 
the idea. He remembered he had been given the Play 
to read as a holiday task. Terrible nonsense really. 
Disguised under a Magic of Words. And Kathleen 
believed in such things! He would have thought her 
superior. . . . But these old legends had a firm hold. 
Very firm. Like all superstitions ... a much firmer 
hold than people realised, even on the highly intellectual 
who considered themselves free. . . . Free? Errmph! 

He finished his strawberries and then his porridge. It 
was fortunate the boy was so extraordinarily independent 
of food. He looked at his watch. It was nearly ten 
o’clock, and still quite light in the open. The after¬ 
glow of the sun lingered. He would stroll up into the 
great Beech Grove above the Little House and see if 
there were any sign of the boy. He stepped into its 
cool depths and found himself almost in darkness. 
Wanky followed, noiselessly padding at his heel. Except 
the rustle of his own footsteps among the leaves there 
seemed no sound, but when he paused and looked up 
into the mysterious immensity above he could hear a faint 
far-off murmur as of a great sea on an endless shore. 

Strange things trees. Something akin to awe fell on 
him as he looked up and listened. Very strange. There 


IOO 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


were places . . . uncivilised of course . . . where they 
worshipped supposed spirits in trees. Quite understand¬ 
able in a spot like this. Mysterious . . . majestic . . . 
yes, awe-inspiring. He had never been up here after 
night-fall before. It was wonderful . . . that was the 
right word . . . wonderful. He began to discern things 
better. The exquisite straight trunks, the delicate 
tracery of branches above. No cathedral he had ever 
seen reached this place in beauty. Here was the real 
“dim religious light.” Here one longed to be able, to 
pray. 

Was he afraid? It was not possible! But was he? 
At least he was overwhelmed; with a sudden intensity 
of desire for that sunlit space in the gold-green glade, 
for That which had manifested through Its Beauty, in 
Its Beauty. The desire was so great that it seemed like 
fear. Was he afraid . . . ? 

And then Copper Top came flying down the Grove. 
His iblue silk shirt was caught back and the hair blown 
up from his forehead by the speed with which he came, 
a little flying figure of light through the dim shadows. 
With him, sweeping on outstretched wings, came a white 
owl, and by his side ran Little Wolf with the long loping 
run of his ancestors. 

“You have come!” he called. He circled round the 
Professor and halted at his side. “You have come!” 
he said again. 

The Professor felt the life from the boy’s little body 
vibrating, filling his own with some strange electric 
energy. He felt young again. Ridiculously young! 
Home? Bed? The very idea was absurd. 

“Yes, here I am,” he chuckled. “And now where are 
we going?” 

Copper Top moved backwards in front of him, lightly, 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER ioi 

on the tips of his toes. lie could walk backwards with 
unusual ease for a human being. 

“Up! Up! Up!” he sang. “Up to the winds and the 
clouds and the sky, and the stars and the big, big moon.” 

The Professor followed. They passed out of the 
Beech Grove into less dense foliage. He could see the 
sky peeping through the branches, here and there a star 
twinkled. Twice he saw the dim outline of deer close at 
hand. Their soft eyes looked at him out of the shadows, 
unstartled, without fear, with only a gentle curiosity. 
Copper Top flitted on in front, and with him swept the 
white owl. Sometimes he went so quickly that the 
Professor lost sight of him altogether. They were off 
any beaten track now, and when they dipped into one of 
the valleys it was very dark again. But the Professor 
held on valiantly, and the first time that he paused in 
serious doubt as to his way, Copper Top’s butterfly hand 
fell into his, and the boy was back again. 

“I don’t know where you are making for, old chap,” 
said the Professor blinking, “but are you sure this is 
the way?” 

“Everywhere is the way,” said the boy, and laughed, 
and his laughter ran in ripples across the darkness. His 
eyes shone in it. His whole body quivered with vitality. 
Nevertheless, he stayed with the Professor through the 
valley. It was close and hot and uncannily still. The 
noise of the Professor’s footsteps seemed to him ab¬ 
normal. The boy and the dogs moved without sound. 
He looked up, but there was no glimpse of sky or glim¬ 
mer of star, only a curious deep twilight in which leaves 
and branches assumed strange shapes and shadows. 

Then they began to climb again, and gradually once 
more it grew lighter. There were glimpses of sky which 
seemed aglow from some far-off fire, and soon came little 


102 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

open spaces among the trees, and then a straight out¬ 
look on the right; to the west, the Professor thought. 
He recognised the outline of the far hills, still softly 
radiant in the after-glow from the sun. The sky was 
soft with it too; it looked of immense depth. The moon 
was not up. The after-glow, hid the stars. 

The Professor climbed on. Copper Top was flitting in 
front once more, disappearing, returning, and where he 
moved the owl’s broad white wings cleft the sky above 
his head. And then the forest fell altogether behind, 
and they were out on the Great Uplands. All around 
them the young bracken grew thickly. Its curled green 
fingers were just beginning to open. Among it stood 
great, grey stones. The Professor stood also, with his 
hat in his hand, and bent his grey head among them. 
Far away below, the massed trees of the forest looked 
immensely dark. Beyond, the hills were still strangely 
aglow. He watched the moon come up and turn them 
to silver. Beauty smote him like the stroke of a sword. 
A stroke that clave through all things to that innermost 
thing which was Himself. He had climbed out of more 
than physical darkness. He was in a new place. 

Copper Top looked back at him. His face shone like 
a star. “Come,” he said once more, and the Professor 
followed again, over the bracken, among the grey stones, 
leaving his hat where it had fallen from his hand. Far 
away on the Mentmore Road he heard the bwhirr bwhirr 
of a motor-bicycle as it toiled up the long hill out of 
Fairbridge. The moon rose higher and higher in the 
deep sky. The after-glow faded away. The stars filled 
heaven. The world was moon-white. He stepped out 
of the bracken into a patch of budding heather, fragrant 
beneath his feet, and then he stopped again. In front of 
him lay a whole field of blue-bells, silver-blue in the 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


103 


moonlight, exquisite, aerial, thousands upon thousands, 
shivering with joy as the little breezes wandered among 
them. 

Some words, when read and why remembered the 
Professor did not know, flashed through his mind. 

“There is no Great or Small 
But God Who maketh all.” 

Copper Top was among the blue-bells on his knees. 
He held his hands out, palms upward. His little face 
was like a living moonbeam. 

The Professor knelt down too. The movement was 
unconscious, automatic. Something was going to hap¬ 
pen. He waited. A little wind came softly, softly mur¬ 
muring up from the east. 

The Professor started. Was it . . . Were they? It 
was not possible. He bent his head lower and laid his 
ear above the flowers. Yes. . . . It was possible. They 
were. They were chiming—chiming dainty music . . . 
like little bells . . . bell notes. Very clear and true 
. . . bells . . . chiming. 

The Professor lifted his head; the sense that some¬ 
thing was going to happen became acute, and suddenly 
he covered his face with his hands. The movement was 
as automatic as when he had fallen on his knees. 

What had passed him . . . moving over the singing 
flowers . . . ? He was conscious of Something Vast 
. . . a Presence ... a Radiance of Blue. . . . There 
svvept over him a glow of life and well-being, of security. 
He was enveloped in Light. He was in touch for one 
Eternal Moment with That which manifested through all 
Beauty. He uncovered his face and lifted it up, holding 
out his hands even as Copper Top had done, but the 


104 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

Presence had passed, and with It went the boy. The 
owl too . . . and there were other birds swift and 
circling. There were deer running, many of them, and 
little eager rabbits. All the Forest World seemed out. 
The dogs were following too. It seemed all Nature fol¬ 
lowed and only Man was left behind. 

The Professor knelt on among the dew-drenched 
grasses, for the time being beyond Thought, until the 
moving things vanished. The moon was now high in 
the heavens. Around him it was light as day. The 
blue-bells shivered still, with delight. Some little golden 
star flowers looked up at him, each content in its own 
perfect place. They held a meaning in their eyes, and 
through them something looked at him. 

His physical brain began to work again. It moved 
stiffly at first. Only long-forgotten bits of old prayers 
came back to him. Old words of praise that he and 
Margot had sung together in Paradise. He knew where 
she was now. Inside . . . with all that . . . surely he 
had been Inside for one Eternal Moment too. . . . 

Again the little winds came murmuring up from the 
east, fragrant and fresh and sweet. The blue-bells 
swayed beneath them, dancing among the moonbeams, 
but they rang no melody. Could he have imagined it? 
He tried to recapture the notes in vain. Could it all 
have been imagination? Flowers did not ... Of 
course not! But he had heard the bwhirr of a motor¬ 
bicycle on the Mentmore Road just a few moments be¬ 
fore. He had not imagined that. Why should not 
flowers sing? Again old remembered words came back 
to him. ‘‘He that hath ears to hear.” Had he not 
guessed sometimes the possibility of subtle sense lying 
inside the physical senses? With those senses what 
might one not hear . . . what might one not see ? 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 105 

An Inner Light. Who knew what animated and lit the 
whole world of matter? Who knew? Not Man. 
Least of all Man. 

The Professor snorted. His mind began to run in its 
usual groove once more. Man! Far off on the Ment- 
more Road another motor-bicycle began to climb the 
long hill. He rose stiffly from his knees. His feet and 
ankles were wet with heavy dew . . . rheumatism . . . 
sciatica. . . . He ought to have put on his boots and 

gaiters. But he had not known. He looked round him 

to take his bearings. The great stretches of moorland 
lay very still, bare of all moving life so far as his eye 

could reach. The grey stones of the old quarry shone 

silver-white in the moonlight; he would strike the home¬ 
ward track there. A good four miles to the Little 
House. The motor-bicycle had reached the top of the 
hill; he could hear the softer wh-i-r-r as it reached the 
level. He would get off home as quickly as possible. 
He was cold. The boy . . . the boy would not be 
back for hours. Something that was not physical cold 
penetrated him. He envied the boy ... he would fol¬ 
low now if he had any idea where ... or which way. 
But the great forest lay silent and immovable. It would 
yield no more secrets to him that night. 

He stumbled across the heather and bracken in the 
direction of the quarry. Imagination! After all what 
was Imagination? And he had not imagined all those 
animals following . . . with the boy . . . the birds fly¬ 
ing. . . . He was not a neurotic female. People would 
say he was mad ... of course. People! People would 
say anything. He envied the boy. What world of won¬ 
der was it that he cognised . . . moved in? 

The Professor felt old and tired, left outside, as he 
stumbled along the homeward track alone. He passed 


106 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

into the wooded land. It was dark and cold, very cold; 
his slippers were wet through; he was miserable. Then 
he tripped over an uneven piece of ground and nearly 
fell. It was the climax. He felt like crying. . . . 

At that moment a soft muzzle poked itself into his 
hand. Wanky had come back to him. 

He got home somehow, groping and stumbling, and 
put himself to bed; but he could not get warm. He 
only slept in snatches, with intervals in which his mind 
wandered round and round the events of his midnight 
adventure in circles, and finally woke up shivering with 
one of his violent colds in his head. 

“Bless the man!” exclaimed Mistress Jones, hearing 
violent sneezes from above. The Professor had a 
magnificent sneeze. It seemed to shake the whole house. 
She hurried up to him with hot bottles and hot coffee, 
and persuaded him to stay in bed for his breakfast. 

“And what would you be expecting staying out in the 
forest till all hours and the dew so thick on the ground ?” 
she asked him severely. “And I not able to sleep in 
my bed for fear of what might be overtaking you.” 

She handed the Professor a fresh supply of handker¬ 
chiefs, and he blew his nose violently, but answered 
meekly enough. 

“You are right, Kathleen. I am too old for these 
pranks, I fear. Is the boy in?” 

“He came in just after sunrise, and Little Wolf with 
him, and the two of them are asleep together in the 
hammock under the Big Oak,” said Mistress Jones. She 
had watched all her family safely in, praying many pray¬ 
ers the while to the Saints and the Holy Virgin for 
their protection. But of this she said nothing, for she 
was a silent woman, nor did “They” like to be spoken 
of. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


107 


The Professor slept through most of the morning, 
tucked up cosily with his hot bottles. So did Copper 
Top under the Big Oak. Wanky and Little Wolf kept 
guard over their respective masters. It was a beautiful 
day and a pity to waste so much of it, but the patience 
of dogs with human beings is infinite. 

It was tea-time before the Professor woke up 
thoroughly, and got into his dressing-gown and slippers. 
He looked out of the window and discovered Copper 
Top still under the Big Oak. He too was awake and 
sitting on the ground, cross-legged as his fashion was, 
with a tumbler of milk in one hand and a slice of cake in 
the other. Birds were all around him, glancing here and 
there, chattering and chirping. One was on his shoulder, 
another perched on his forefinger and pecked at the cake. 
Little Wolf was stretched flat on his stomach, his legs 
stuck straight out behind and before. Every now and 
then he threw up his little pointed muzzle and barked, 
joining amiably in the conversation. Copper Top fed the 
dog and himself alternately. He looked up at once, 
when the Professor’s night-cap bobbed out of the win¬ 
dow. No living thing appeared within a tangible radius 
of Copper Top without his knowledge. 

“Are you better, ’Dophin?” he called up. 

“Yes,” said the Professor, and was forthwith seized 
with so violent a fit of Sneezing that it frightened every 
bird away, chattering with anger and disgust, and 
caused Little Wolf to bark furiously beneath the wim 
dow. 

The Professor retired again, and decided to put his 
feet in mustard and water. It would draw the cold down 
from his head. And he would have a dash of brandy 
in his tea. 

While he sat with his feet in the mustard and water, 


io8 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


and a rug round his knees, and drank his tea, he began 
to think. His brain cleared, and he recalled all the 
strange events of the previous night. Most certainly 
they had occurred during his waking consciousness. 
He went over every step of the way, from the Beech 
Grove to the Great Uplands. He had watched the moon 
soaring in that immense depth of sky, and he had heard 
the motor-bicycle panting up the Mentmore Hill. Noth¬ 
ing non-material about that. And he had only just 
stopped walking through the young bracken and across 
that little strip of heather and myrtle when the strange 
happenings had occurred. He had been walking all the 
time . . . except for . . . How long had he been on his 
knees among the wet grasses? Well! you don’t sud¬ 
denly go down on your knees and go to sleep! Of 
course you don’t! No, the thing had happened. How¬ 
ever strange . . . abnormal even ... it had happened. 
He recaptured the vision of Copper Top kneeling among 
the blue-bells with outstretched hands, palms upwards. 
What gift had he received? His face had looked as if 
made out of moon-beams. Copper Top? Where did he 
come from? Out of what strange world of living 
things? He strove to recapture that sense of some Great 
Presence which had filled him with an eternal moment of 
ecstasy. It was dim already. Yet he had known it. 
Blue . . . yes, of course it was blue. . . . The blue¬ 
bells. They had chimed . . . chimed exquisite music. 
If he could remember that. Did earth and water and 
air hold secrets beyond our ken? An inner Life to which 
we were deaf and blind? And yet which we might 
know. . . . Was the utterance of Life after all not a 
Cry but a Song? The Music . . . if he could only re¬ 
call it. . . . 

He nodded in his chair. The brandy in the tea made 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


109 

him sleepy. The mustard and water was soothing. He 
was nearly asleep. 

And then suddenly he sprang up with a cry of triumph. 
He scrubbled his feet hurriedly on the bath towel beside 
the basin and poked them into his slippers. He shoved the 
basin to one side and the table to the other, gathered the 
rug in a bunch round his loins, and stumbled across 
the room down the stairs. His night-cap bobbed and 
his slippers flapped. He sneezed violently as he went. 
The doors and windows were all open, but he cared 
nothing. The blue-bell music had come to him suddenly 
as he dozed. He must get to the piano at once before it 
escaped him. 

He trailed across the library, one end of the rug behind 
him, sneezing as he went. Wanky barked and leaped 
beside him; evidently great events were toward. He sat, 
his tongue hanging out with excitement, and watched 
while the Professor’s fingers stumbled about among the 
piano notes as he hummed through his nose little at¬ 
tempts at the tune he strove to capture. Presently it 
began to come. Chimes . . . clear and sweet . . . dear 
dainty chimes. . . . 

His whole body was drawn together with the effort of 
concentration. Then it relaxed. His eyebrows went up, 
his beard came down, his face shone. He had it! He 
had it! Yes ... it went like that ... do ... re 
. . . mi . . . fa . . . Ah-tich-ooo! He had it! 

He moved to the writing-table, leaving the rug twined 
round the music-stool and one slipper on the floor. He 
jotted down notes on a sheet of paper. He came back 
to the piano and played it over again, securing his lost 
slipper by the accident of placing his foot on it. He 
jotted down more notes. He sang again. Do ... re 
. . . mi . . . Ah-tich-ooo! Fa. Sol. Ah-tich-ooo! 


110 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

Then he frowned and muttered. It was not quite right. 
There was something missing. Why had he never 
really studied music? Every one of those flower bells 
had chimed different notes in harmony. And what 
harmony! Ah ... a good idea! He would send the 
rough score he had made out to old Pendlebury. Pen 
was a Doctor of Music. He sat down again at the 
writing-table, seized his stylo pen, and paused. Wanky 
retired in disgust to the hearth-rug. It was a sign that 
he had almost given up hope that anything of an exciting 
nature was about to happen; but he kept one half-open 
eye on his master in case of any fresh developments. 
The Professor continued to ruminate, pen in hand. 

Should he tell Pendlebury how he had come by the 
motif? He would undoubtedly think him mad. But 
old Pen was mad himself! He had written a book to 
prove that Stonehenge was built by Adam to cele¬ 
brate the Fall. Quite mad! All the best people were 
mad. 

The Professor chuckled and muttered, “Quite mad!” 
Still he would not tell Pendlebury. It was immaterial 
where he had got the music from. He wished old Pen 
would come and stay for a few days. He could consult 
him about the boy’s education. He splashed off a 
letter, enclosed his rough score, sealed it up, and ad¬ 
dressed it to Dr. Charles Pendlebury, Magdalen Col¬ 
lege, Cambridge. He would be on his vacation now, 
but the letter would be forwarded. Or possibly he had 
not gone away at all. He was a homing bird, and that 
garden of his . . . running down to the Backs . . . 
very pleasant in June. 

He called for Kathleen. 

“Bless the man,” she cried. “And him with nothing 
but his dressing-gown between him and the window and 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


hi 


the draught. And your hat out on the world, for I can 
find it nowhere!” 

“I shall have my supper down here, Kathleen,” said 
the Professor firmly. “Send Gerry down to the pillar 
box in time for post, with that letter. And you may 
light the fire.” 

He dozed over it and thought of the boy. Yes . . . 
he would like him to go to Cambridge when he was old 
enough. He remembered his own time there. They had 
been good days. Very good. Half asleep, he was back 
in them again in thought. He wandered across Trinity 
court with his gown over his shoulder, he looked into 
the Buttery . . . they never had kept a decent brand of 
cigarettes there . . . never. . . . He strolled into the 
Common Room and found friends long dead, friends 
almost forgotten, sprawling on the tables reading the 
newspapers. Names and faces came drifting back to 
him. And with them that wonderful atmosphere of 
youth. 

Yes, they were good days. Copper Top would like 
Cambridge . . . impossible to do otherwise. A Greek 
Scholarship . . . why not? School first . . . um . . . 
Copper Top at school . . . christened . . . not chris¬ 
tened. He must talk to Pendlebury . . . Cambridge 
. . . yes. . . . 

His head nodded lower and lower. He was sound 
asleep. Presently his nightcap dropped off. Wanky 
sidled nearer and laid his muzzle across his master’s 
slippered foot and slept too. Presently the western sun¬ 
light filled the room and lit the silver halo round the 
Professor’s head. The Professor dreamt, dreamt that 
he and Copper Top were christening the Archdeacon in 
the big fountain of Trinity Court, and Marion Condor 
came, and was terribly concerned because he had nothing 


II2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


on. She gave him a very long blue scarf, and he wound 
it round and round the place where his waist should 
have been, and said, “One must use discretion. It is 
blue in colour and convertible to any shape, and was 
habitually used by the late Queen Victoria who was 
recommended it by Vesta Tilley.” 

Here the Archdeacon began to sneeze violently, and 
the Professor woke up to find he was doing the sneezing 
himself. He remembered the end of his dream, and 
laughed and decided he had better go to bed. 

By the following evening the Professor was nearly 
himself again, and he and Copper Top had their supper 
together under the oak tree, with the usual company of 
birds and beasts. In Copper Top’s environment even 
cats and birds established a truce. It seemed to the 
Professor a good moment to question him on those 
strange happenings of two nights ago. They were al¬ 
ready becoming more vague and improbable in the Pro¬ 
fessor’s mind, but there was the music, that indescrib¬ 
ably dainty chiming melody with the wonderful har¬ 
monies, and there was the sound of the motor-bicycle 
climbing Mentmore hill. He had not imagined one 
without the other. He would ask Copper Top. It was 
absurd not to. And yet it was, equally absurdly, very 
difficult to do so. He decided not to give away to what 
seemed like a ridiculous shyness. 

“Copper Top!” he began, and paused. Then he made 
a plunge. “The blue-bells were ringing something . . . 
the other night you know—ringing music of 
sorts. . . .” 

“Yes,” said Copper Top, with no undue interest. He 
was busy feeding a small blue tit out of a spoon. 

“Well,” the Professor stammered. “I didn’t know 
—I had no idea—” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


ii3 

Copper Top turned his wide eyes on him and laughed 
a little. 

“There’s such a lot of things you don’t know!” He 
stated what was to him a matter of fact and meant no 
disrespect. 

“I suppose there may be,” said the Professor humbly. 
“But they did sing ... ?” 

“Evvything can sing.” Copper Top spread his arms 
out wide as if to embrace the whole universe. “It’s all 
part of the Big Song. I can’t hear it all, but I fink I 
hear lots more than you do.” 

“Then you did hear the blue-bells too?” 

“Of course I did. They were singing like—like any¬ 
thing the other night.” 

“Can you sing their music, old chap?” 

Copper Top shook his head. “No, course I can’t, 
’Dophin,” he said patiently. “Evvy bell has a different 
sound and they can ring all the sounds at once. I can 
only do one at a time.” 

He ran up the scale in his lovely clear voice, and 
laughed again and began to play at rough and tumble 
with the dogs and Sandy Puss while the birds finished 
his porridge. 

The Professor thought things over. A blue-bell 
orchestra! But it was too absurd! And yet why not? 
What did we know or understand of sound after all? 
Our little gamut of notes, was it likely they comprised 
the whole realm of sound? Of course they didn’t—we 
knew that at any rate. Then why had he heard the 
other night ? Abnormal conditions—yes—undoubtedly 
they were. That Presence . . . 

“Copper Top,” he called, “stop a minute! I want to 
ask you something else . . .” 

Then he stopped. It was not so easy. The boy waited. 


114 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

“Old chap,” said the Professor slowly, “there was 
something up there the other night. A Presence—a Be¬ 
ing—something Vast. ...” 

He stopped again, for Copper Top’s face had assumed 
an expression of complete detachment. The Professor 
had a curious feeling as if a door had been violently 
shut. He cursed himself for a fool. A silly fool! He 
had known perfectly well that Copper Top lived partly 
in some strange world of his own, and that he was 
curiously reticent about it. And now, just when the 
boy had as it were admitted him into it, he must needs 
go and spoil it all by asking questions. But had Copper 
Top admitted him? His thoughts flashed back to the 
beginning of the adventure. He had wandered up into 
the Beech Grove looking for the boy. The boy had 
found him there. He had called to him. “You have 
come!” He had taken it as a matter of course. The 
Professor recaptured the sense of exhilaration with 
which he had responded. They had gone together. All 
things in the forest had gone. Was it possible that Cop¬ 
per Top had taken it for granted that the Professor was 
out on the same business as himself? Of course it was! 
It was not only possible, it was what had really hap¬ 
pened. It was just a bit of pure luck that he had touched 
the hem of that wondrous garment, had sensed the joy¬ 
ous fragrance of happier worlds than ours. And he 
must go and spoil everything asking questions—fright¬ 
ening the boy. . . . 

Copper Top was up in the oak tree now, lying along 
one of the branches. Sandy Puss lay in much the 
same attitude on a higher branch. Her tail waved, 
her china-blue eyes glittered, she curled and uncurled her 
velvet paws, tempting him to spring at her. Presently 
he sprang. There was the flash of two moving bodies in 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


115 

the tree, a scuttle and a rustle, and Copper Top and 
Sandy Puss were on the same branch, the cat in the 
boy’s arms, purring and patting his face with her soft 
curled paws. 

“God bless the boy!” exclaimed the Professor, and 
meant it. At any rate he had not minded the question 
about the blue-bell music. The Professor wondered 
what he would think when he heard it on the piano, and 
chuckled. It should be a surprise. He would not tell 
Copper Top a word about it. It should be a surprise. 

He lit his after-supper pipe and smoked on peacefully, 
thinking and planning for the boy. His usual train of 
Thought was broken up. He thought no more of Man 
and the Pit he had digged for himself, except in so far 
as that same Pit affected Copper Top. For take his 
chance of getting into it the boy must. Look which way 
the Professor would there seemed no royal road of es¬ 
cape. The boy had got to face the senseless cruelty, the 
brutal competition, the bitter jealousy, the fear and the 
greed and the vanity. 

But for the moment he was playing happily with Sandy 
Puss in the oak tree, and the world of Nature was at its 
midsummer best. The Professor smoked on peacefully, 
with the blue-bell music drifting through his brain. 


CHAPTER VI 


Doctor Charles Pendlebury accepted the Pro¬ 
fessor’s invitation. As it happened he was staying at 
Eastbourne and would be delighted to spend a night with 
his old friend on the way home. Also he added he was 
interested in the music. 

The Professor had met him at various intervals since 
their Cambridge days, so there was no need to speculate 
on whether he was much changed from the solemn, 
rather smug-looking youth with whiskers, in the group 
over the mantelpiece. The Professor knew that he had 
now an iron grey moustache and a bald head, and that 
he had the cheerful, rubicund appearance of a man who 
loved the good things of this world. He more than 
suspected that Pendlebury was pernickety over his food, 
and decided with a sigh that some attempt at late dinner 
was necessary. He had told him not to bring dress 
clothes, and that during his stay he would have to be 
a vegetarian. Fortunately Mistress Jones’ cooking was 
above suspicion. The Professor ordered soup, an eight 
egg omelette, a puree of green peas, a macaroni and 
tomato souffle, junket and strawberries, and an extra 
large bowl of Devonshire cream, cheese and butter, and 
a salad with every possible vegetable in it. He undraped 
a bottle of port from immemorial cobwebs. He emptied 
a second armchair of its usual contents, books and 
papers, placed a tin of the best tobacco beside it, refilled 
the one big vase with roses, and felt that the heart of 
man should desire no more. 

116 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


ii 7 

Copper Top was intensely interested. Visitors, even 
those who only stayed for an hour or two, were rare, 
but one who was to stay for a whole night was unheard 
of. After tea, when the Professor had gone to meet this 
wonderful arrival at the station, he came and lay along 
the kitchen window-sill to watch Mistress Jones prepare 
the evening meal, and ask questions. 

“I ’spose he’s very beautiful, Kathleen?” he asked. 

“What! the Doctor!” answered Mistress Jones. 
“Why would you be thinking that, beloved? He’s just 
a man.” 

“Aren’t men ever beautiful?” 

“Here and there maybe. But it’s seldom enough you 
meet such, and that’s the truth.” 

“Then I ’spose he’s very wise?” 

“He has the book-learning,” said Mistress Jones, who 
gave to no man more than his due. “And I’ve heard 
he’s grand at music.” 

Copper Top slid to his feet and skipped with joy. 

“Oh, Kathleen Beloved, why didn’t you tell me at 
once! I knew he must be somefin wonderful. Will he 
sing to us, do you think?” 

“I’d be thinking he’s a bit too old for singing. But 
perjiaps he’ll be fine on the piano.” 

Copper Top’s face shone. “P’raps he’ll play us the 
things we’ve never heard before, Kathleen! All the 
things out of the music books that are too dif’cult for 
’Dophin to read. The heaps and heaps of little black 
dots that all mean sounds. Why can’t I sing more than 
one sound at once, Kathleen?” 

“The good God knows,” said Mistress Jones. It 
was an excellent answer to many of Copper Top’s ques¬ 
tions. Also he knew it was final. He slipped out again 
over the window-sill, ran down the garden path and 


118 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

across the field. He moved so lightly that his feet hard¬ 
ly seemed to touch the ground. At the bottom of the 
field stood a tall fir tree. From its topmost branches you 
could see far over the forest, and watch at various 
points the upward pathway. Copper Top went up to the 
top as easily as a little squirrel. He sat himself in one 
of the forks with his feet swinging, his arms, so far as 
they would go, round the trunk, and his cheek against 
the rough bark. The tree top swayed ever so gently, 
he could feel the vibrations that radiated from its centre. 
It sang too, and presently Copper Top began to sing 
with it, a little murmur of song. Later on the wood 
pigeons who made their home in the tree, came circling 
in and sat with him cooing softly. 

It was quite a long time before he saw two little dark 
figures appear, first in one and then in another place, 
where the pathway was visible. Up they came, up and 
up like two large beetles crawling, he thought. And 
then he could hear their voices, murmuring and boom¬ 
ing, now loud now hushed, according to the lie of the 
ground. They were talking hard. And what a funny 
noise it was. Copper Top laughed. The visitor had got 
the boomiest voice he had ever heard. He did wonder 
what he would be like to look at. When they came out 
at last into the open the two men stopped, while Dr. 
Pendlebury boomed ejaculatory appreciations of the 
Little House and made acquaintance with King Ed¬ 
ward. He was much shorter than the Professor, a little 
man with heavy shoulders, and he looked as if he was 
really enjoying himself. Copper Top liked the look of 
him. He whistled the two notes which were his call to 
the Professor and began to come down. 

The Professor grasped his friend’s arm with one 
hand and pointed Copper Top out to him with the other. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 119 

He was really rather excited over their meeting. Was 
the boy ... ? Yes, he had even got his sandals on. 

“Good gracious !” exclaimed the Doctor. “Surely 
that is very dangerous. ... By Jove! The little 
rascal! He can climb!” 

Copper Top dropped on to the ground. Yes, he had 
got his sandals on and the brown suit which the Pro¬ 
fessor felt was less remarkable than those in the more 
brilliant colours. And he did not forget his lessons in 
manners. He advanced to the Doctor with a small arm 
and hand rigidly extended, and said gravely: 

“How do you do? It is a pleasant day.” 

The Doctor committed the pardonable error of grip¬ 
ping the proffered hand warmly in response, and in a 
second Copper Top was standing several feet away. He 
moved backwards up the track across the field while 
the two men followed. This enabled him to inspect the 
newcomer at his leisure. He liked the way his bright 
round eyes twinkled, and he liked the way one of his 
eyebrows went up higher than the other and gave a 
little twitch now and then. He had a large nose, and 
a nice small mouth tucked away under it, and his 
moustache was dark although his hair was nearly white. 
Copper Top decided that he was like a bee. That was 
why he had such a soft boomy voice. He was like a 
dormouse too. While they sat at tea Copper Top 
thought of the pictures of the Dormouse in the Wonder 
Book that Kathleen had bought for him. Doctor 
Pendlebury was very like that dormouse. The more 
creatures Copper Top found out that he resembled the 
more he liked him. And he said funny things too, and 
laughed till he nearly fell off his chair. He even made 
’Dophin laugh. Copper Top did not understand all they 
were saying, but he loved to hear people laugh. When 


120 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

the Doctor huddled himself up in his chair, shaking all 
over, and giving funny little squeaks just like a dor¬ 
mouse, Copper Top shouted with glee till the air rippled 
and rang with it. 

“Good gracious, Phin, what a laugh!” said the 
Doctor, coming up out of his attack. “Put him in the 
front row and make him laugh and he would pull any 
farce through. Why it’s a fortune! Catching as the 
Mumps! Good Lord, I haven’t had an attack ©f 
giggles like that for years. Do you remember old 
Goodson—when I gave way to one of them in the middle 
of a wigging on inattention . . . asked me if I suffered 
from epilepsy. . . ?” 

The two went off into the Professor’s study and 
Copper Top slipped away. He did not know what 
“Mumps” was, and he disliked any part of the verb to 
catch. ’Dophin had promised him music after supper. 
He would go away till then with Wanky and Little Wolf. 

“What do you think of the boy?” asked the Professor, 
when both pipes were going comfortably, and Doctor 
Pendlebury had expressed unqualified approval of the 
tobacco. 

“A jolly little fellow,” he answered cordially. “You’ve 
adopted him more or less, I gather?” 

“More!” said the Professor, and grunted. 

“You won’t mind my saying so, but you don’t strike 
me as . . 

“Of course I don’t!” snapped the Professor. “Most 
unsuitable . . . from one point of view. But I suit 
Copper Top. The thing is the boy has got to take his 
place in the world sooner or later. He can’t live in the 
forest with me all his life. And you wouldn’t believe” 
—the Professor ran his hand through his fringe, as if 
he were plunged in the midst of “The Human Fiasco,” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


121 


till it stuck up and stuck out all round his head—“you 
wouldn’t believe, not having children yourself, the ex¬ 
traordinary amount of detail that has to be gone through. 
Unfortunately for one thing I forgot to have him chris¬ 
tened, and the other day that pompous person, Pinniger 

“The Archdeacon?” 

“You know him?” 

“We were down at Watershed Camp together in 1916. 
He was Chaplain of the Forces. Wore a martial cleri¬ 
cal cloak, and used to preach to the men like one of the 
old prophets exhorting the Israelites to hew Ammon 
hip and thigh. The world hasn’t changed much, has it? 
But he’s a fine preacher. I was lecturing on venereal 
disease.” 

“What!” 

“Don’t you remember I read for a Medical Degree 
once? Changed my mind and took a Musical Degree 
at the last minute.” 

The Professor nodded. He did not remember, but 
knew the little man could have taken any degree he liked 
in his brilliant youth. 

“What are you playing with now?” he asked. 

“Psycho-analysis. Very interesting! Subconscious 
mind. Very interesting! Pensinks have asked me to 
write a book on it. It explains a great deal that has 
hitherto been puzzling us. . . 

“Yes . . . yes—I know,” interrupted the Professor. 
“It’s explaining everything just now. You people al¬ 
ways let these new ideas run away with you. Not that 
it’s really new. History. . . .” 

“Exactly,” said the Doctor adroitly. “And so Pinni¬ 
ger takes an interest in Copper Top?” 

“I hope not” said the Professor anxiously. “But 


122 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

when he called the other day he was asking if the boy 
knew his Catechism. To tell you the truth I’d never 
thought of it . . . and in any case I must get him 
christened first, so I see. I have been reading it—do 
you remember your Catechism, Pen?” 

The Doctor thought. Then his eyebrows twitched. 
“The pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all 
the sinful lusts of the flesh,” he murmured. “I always 
like the sound of ‘pomps and vanities.’ ” 

“Well! There you are! I might tell Copper Top 
the world was wicked till I was black in the face. All 
the world he knows is beautiful. How are you going 
to tell him what the sinful lusts of the flesh are? 
Errmph!” 

The Professor glared at his friend fiercely. 

“Does he play with other children ?” asked the Doctor. 

“No,” said the Professor, rather guiltily. “There 
aren’t any here. He plays with the winds and the water 
and all the creatures.” He told Pendlebury something 
of Copper Top’s close comradeship with all that lived in 
the great forest, a comradeship which included the very 
elements. Of his almost uncanny ability to deal with 
them. The absence of -all fear and of how nothing 
feared him. He told of the difficulty of keeping him 
within ordinary confines, even of garments, of his swift¬ 
ness of movement, of his dislike of physical contact 
even with those he loved. And he told of the radiant 
joy which dwelt with the boy as an abiding thing. 

Pendlebury smoked, and listened, and found himself 
intensely interested. He did not speak for a while when 
the Professor had finished. 

“You think there is something which cannot be ac¬ 
counted for by any possible heredity, or by unusual en¬ 
vironment,” he said at length. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


123 


“I am sure of it.” 

“Have you any theory?” 

“None that fits.” 

“I would like to see the little fellow with his birds 
and beasts . . . and that music? You got it through 
him of course?” 

“In a way,” answered the Professor evasively. He 
was not sure that he wanted to tell Pendlebury of the 
events of that strange night under the white moon—on 
the great Uplands. He did not know if it was quite fair 
to the boy. Perhaps some personal pride held him. 

“Come and have a stroll round,” he said. “Copper 
Top may be about, and you may see something. He 
likes you.” 

Pendlebury was conscious of feeling quite ridiculously 
pleased to hear it. A most attractive child certainly. 
That laugh of his . . . ! 

They wandered down to the ponds. It was cool and 
pleasant there. They smoked and talked and watched 
the fish rise, but Copper Top was not to be seen. The 
Professor drew various likely spots with caution but no 
success, until, suddenly, on the edge of a larch-wood 
glade, he seized the Doctor by the arm and held him 
tightly. 

“Don’t pinch,” whispered Pendlebury. “I see. By 
Jove!” 

Copper Top was in a tree some distance up the glade, 
apparently playing hide and seek with a family of 
squirrels. They watched the game for ten minutes or 
more and it seemed like no time at all. It was the 
prettiest sight. Then the boy swung for a moment by 
one hand from a lower bough and dropped lightly to 
his feet on the gold-brown needle carpet. Several rab¬ 
bits were nibbling in the sunshine where the grass was 


124 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

sweet, and they paid no more heed to him than if he 
had been another rabbit. He stooped and stroked one 
of them as one strokes a dog, then passed on up the 
glade, moving with a curious lightness. A wood- 
pigeon came circling above the boy’s shining head. It 
settled on his shoulder. The two disappeared together, 
fading into the green mysterious veil of the larch wood. 

Pendlebury looked at the Professor. 

“But it isn’t just a few that he’s tamed!” he exclaimed. 
“I didn’t understand. It’s the whole blessed lot!” 

“Errmph!” grunted the Professor. “Exactly! The 
whole blessed lot.” 

Copper Top came in to supper with amazing punctu¬ 
ality, and watched Dr. Pendlebury eating strawberries 
and cream with interest. 

“There seems no reason why one should ever stop,” 
said the Doctor pensively, as he helped himself for the 
fourth time, “provided the dish is large enough.” 

He spoke with affection of a wonderful “food for the 
gods” called a Dringer, made at a place which he and 
the Professor talked about as if it had been more won¬ 
derful even than the Dringer, a place called Harrow. 
He spoke of mountains of strawberries and sugar, and 
rivers of cream, in a cellar restaurant at Copenhagen, 
and of “Alpine strawberries” soused in wine eaten by the 
Grand Canal in Venice. 

He talked a great deal, but he talked well. He con¬ 
veyed Copper Top with him to those Gargantuan feasts, 
in their delightful settings. Copenhagen and Venice 
were never mere names to Copper Top again. 

When the dish of strawberries was quite empty, he 
concerned himself with the old port, and then, with equal 
enjoyment, with the Professor’s Blutner piano. His 
beautiful artist’s hands touched the ivory keys with the 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


125 


same delicate appreciation with which they had handled 
the strawberries and the port. He played Spring Music, 
and watched Copper Top shivering with delight. Then 
he played The Bird Song from Siegfried, and suddenly 
the boy began to sing to it like a violin obligato. It was 
the soul of the music made audible. 

“By Jove!” murmured the Doctor under his breath. 

“You knew that before?” he asked at the end. 

“No.” 

“Then how did you know what to sing?” 

Copper Top stared at him. “It’s here,” he said. 

“Oh!” The Doctor felt nonplussed. “Well, now 
I wonder how you will like this.” 

He looked across at the Professor with his eyebrow 
twitching, then he looked at Copper Top and began to 
play. 

After the first few bars the boy’s face altered. The 
shining light of rapt anticipation faded into a look of 
apprehension. It became certainty. It became rage. 
Something which the Doctor could only compare to 
lightning, flashed, so it seemed, from the whole boy, and 
the next moment a small whirling piece of fury fell upon 
him, striking with legs and arms with such swiftness and 
ferocity that he lost his balance and found himself comi¬ 
cally enough, seated on the floor, protecting his head 
with both arms. 

“Copper Top!” yelled the Professor. 

“Mercy!” cried the Doctor. “I don’t know what I’ve 
done, but I apologise—I give in. Cave!” 

Copper Top ceased his onslaught, eluded the Pro¬ 
fessor’s grip without difficulty, and sprang on to the 
window-sill. Poised there he faced them like an accus¬ 
ing angel. His eyes blazed, his voice was rent with 
anger. 


126 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


'‘You have taken my music and hurt it!” he cried, 
and vanished into the night outside. 

The Professor groaned while the Doctor got up and 
arranged himself. 

“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I begin to really see your 
difficulties. The little devil! He’s as strong as—well, 
as I suppose he would be. Muscles . . . yes.” He 
’felt himself over carefully. “I shall be a mass of bruises 
to-morrow.” 

The Professor wrung his beard with his left 
hand. 

‘‘He will never trust me again with anything!” he 
said bitterly. ‘‘Pm an old fool. I made so sure he would 
be pleased—I ought to have known. . . .” 

‘‘I shall be a mass of bruises to-morrow,” repeated 
the Doctor firmly. 

‘‘But how was one to know?” The Professor glared 
at him angrily as if it were all entirely his fault. “And 
what did he mean by ‘hurting it’? What . . .” 

The Doctor put up a deterring hand. “No, James. 
There I put my foot down. I will not have my music 
attacked as well as my person.” 

Then he sat down again, suddenly, on the music stool, 
and went off into a fit of giggles. He became perfectly 
helpless. The Professor continued to perambulate the 
room, and muttered. 

Presently the Doctor, by a superhuman effort, re¬ 
covered sufficiently from his fit of giggles to be sympa¬ 
thetic. That is to say he said: 

“Don’t go on calling yourself a fool, James, the fact 
is obvious, and don’t twist your beard round any further 
or you will have it out by the roots, which I understand 
is painful. Now, see me manage that young wild cat 
of yours!” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


127 


He turned to the piano and began to play Schumann’s 
Traumerei, and Doctor Charles Pendlebury was a pianist 
of some excellence, there was no doubt about it. And he 
played that night as, he felt, he had never played before. 
When he had finished he sat quite still and waited. The 
next moment Copper Top slipped over the window-sill 
and stood beside him. 

“I am sorry I kicked you wiv my feet and knocked 
you off the stool,” he said. “I ’pologise. But I am 
glad I hit you wiv my fists, and I don’t ’pologisp. Please 
play me that again.” 

Both men knew, with a sense of relief which they felt 
was out of all due proportion, that they were forgiven. 
But the Professor remained depressed. That door into 
another world than his own, which had for a little while 
mysteriously stood ajar, was, he miserably suspected, 
finally closed again. 

When the music stopped, and Copper Top slipped out 
once more and vanished into the warm fragrant night, 
Pendlebury closed the window and played the blue-bell 
music over again. Then he looked at the Professor. 

“Why did he call it ‘his’ music?” he asked. “You 
might trust me, Jimmy. I am really interested in the 
boy.” 

Whether it was that, or the use of his old college 
name—no one had called him by it for years—the 
Professor told him. Told him of all the happenings 
of that strange night when he had heard the blue¬ 
bells play their fairy music and felt the passing of that 
vast Presence. 

Pendlebury sat on the music-stool hunched into a con¬ 
centrated heap and listened. 

“Of course you’ll think Pm mad or had some sort of 
a fit,” concluded the Professor. “But there it is! That’s 


128 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

how I got the music. If you could have heard the per¬ 
fection of it . . 

“The subconscious mind—” began Pendlebury, and 
stopped. 

“How did I hear with that?” 

“You would remember-” 

“Then when and where did I hear that music before 
to remember? When and where was I in touch with 
that Presence before?” 

“Besides,” agreed Pendlebury, “the boy knew the 
music. He must have heard it too—he called it ‘his/ ” 

“By the way,” remembered the Professor, “I asked 
him afterwards about the music. Asked him if he heard 
it. He said ‘of course’ he had. ‘They were singing like 
anything.’ And he said ‘everything sings.’ ” 

Phrases came into Pendlebury’s mind that he, like 
many people, knew well, but hitherto had not attached 
any very definite meaning to. “The Great Song of the 
Universe,” “The Music of the Spheres.” Everything 
sings! God! What an orchestra to listen to. He was 
intensely interested. Everything sings. The bat’s cry, 
of course, was the highest note the human ear could hear. 
What was the lowest? He had heard, he thought. 
With what consciousness did Copper Top hear? How 
had the Professor managed to slip into it even for a 
moment? He was intensely interested. 

“Of course,” he said slowly, “I have never denied 
the possibility that we may possess subtler senses lying 
within the physical senses, through which we might be 
able to touch another sphere of consciousness.” 

The Professor looked at him out of the .shadows 
around his chair. “You may think me mad, Pen,” he said, 
“but I find myself being slowly forced into the belief 
that the boy belongs ... at any rate partially ... to 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


129 


another order of beings. Besides what I have told you 
there are other things . . . intangible things ... I can’t 
put it into words. . . .” 

He made a little helpless gesture with both hands and 
began to refill his pipe. The Doctor blew a perfect smoke 
ring and watched it float upwards. Still hunched into 
a heap on the music-stool he had almost a gnome-like 
appearance himself. 

“I don’t deny the possibility,” he said at length. “One 
can’t deny the possibility of anything outside our ken 
these days. But I don’t see that it’s a necessity. Have 
you ever, Phin, felt . . . with me it’s always when I 
first wake up ... a curious sensation as if all your 
senses were combined in one sense?” 

“No. Sounds like the sixth sense of the old mystics.” 

“Well, if you had it all the time . . . really properly 
developed ... it would be more acute. . . . Birds and 
beasts they seem to communicate with each other by 
smell and touch. Suppose you had that sixth sense . . . 
wouldn’t much more vital intercourse with everything be 
possible ? Why should it stop at birds and beasts ? Why 
shouldn’t it include all that we call Nature? It would 
raise you into another sphere of consciousness. . . .” 

The Doctor’s mind simply flew about seizing ideas. 
He had uncurled himself off the music-stool. He paced 
up and down the room, pipe in mouth. He emitted 
volumes of smoke even as he spoke. 

“If we had that sense at use—under our control— 
think what we might do with it . . . and the boy . . . 
if he keeps it . . .” 

“God forbid,” cried the Professor. “If your theory 
were correct you don’t understand what it would mean. 
You are only looking at it from your present state of 
consciousness; from the standpoint of our belief that 


130 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


bird and beast and plant are just there solely that we may 
put them to the greatest material use. The boy may 
have this sixth sense you talk of . . . it’s possible 
enough . . . but it doesn’t leave him where we are. He 
loves these things for their own sakes . . . they are real 
to him . . . they aren’t there to be used. They are there 
because they are wonderful and beautiful. That’s the 
idea you get if you live with the boy. ... It will be 
simply horrible for him to have to live in our world 
when he understands it.” 

Pendlebury stood sucking hard at his pipe. He tried 
to grasp the idea the Professor was struggling to con¬ 
vey to him. It was not quite clear in the Professor’s 
mind, or it was difficult to convey in words. Pendlebury’s 
mind seemed to be groping about for it as a man’s hand 
gropes in the dark for something he cannot see. 

“I wish the little chap would tell one more . . .” he 
began. 

“He can’t,” said the Professor. “He doesn’t under¬ 
stand why we don’t understand; that’s how it always 
seems to me. If you question him it drives him away 
from you.” 

A sudden gleam shone in the Doctor’s eyes. He re¬ 
treated again to his music-stool and hunched himself up 
there once more. 

“I wonder . . .” he began, and stopped. 

“Well!” grunted the Professor. 

“How would it be—it might help enormously, you 
know—if we try to get into touch with his subconscious 
mind. I have had some wonderful . . .” 

“Certainly not!” shouted the Professor. “Certainly 
not. I won’t hear of it. The boy’s not a ‘case’ for your 
damned experiments.” He emerged from his corner out 
of the shadows, and stood over Pendlebury menacingly. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


131 

His beard curved upwards, his eyes glared. “The boy’s 
soul is his own wherever he came from,” he continued. 
“I won’t have him touched! Don’t you dare!” 

Pendlebury covered his head with both arms and 
laughed. “No, no,” he said soothingly. “Of course 
we won’t try it if you don’t like the idea. It was only 
a suggestion. But it’s a pity. I have had some wonder¬ 
ful . . ” 

“Shut up, Pen, I tell you. I won’t hear of it. The 
very idea makes me sick. Not that you would succeed. 
Copper Top,” the Professor chuckled and cooled down, 
“Copper Top would be more than a match for you. 
But I won’t have it tried.” 

“All right,” said Pendlebury. He twirled himself 
round on the music-stool, a little disappointed; a less 
good-natured man would have been vexed. He began 
to play again; the blue-bell music in a different key. He 
hummed as he played. It would make a pretty song he 
thought. 

The Professor returned to his chair and his thoughts. 
A sixth sense. There was something in the idea. But if 
it were so, it only made the problem of how to deal with 
the little chap the more difficult. Pendlebury did not 
understand. It meant the boy communed with life in a 
totally different and more real way than other people, 
and that was not going to make his passage through the 
world easy. All these speculations led nowhere. He 
had got to make the boy fit to take his place in the human 
world . . . among People. Pendlebury was not a bit 
of use. Psycho-analysis! He gave vent to his feel¬ 
ings in a snort of vehement disgust, and the Doctor 
came back to his chair and poured himself out another 
glass of port. He also filled the Professor’s glass. 

“It is a sin and a shame to drink this most noble port 


I3 2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


after smoking,” he said. “But it does give one such a 
feeling of harmony.” 

The Professor sipped his port and laughed. 

“I forgive you,” he said. “But I am convinced the 
less we interfere with that side of the boy the better, 
though help speculating about it I can’t. Eventually, 
I’ve got to find him a school that he’ll stand, until he goes 
to Cambridge. He’ll be all right at Cambridge, I take 
it.” 

Pendlebury nodded, then he grinned. 

“I hope I live to see him there,” he said. 

“Well, he’s going to make a fine Greek scholar,” said 
the Professor defiantly. He glared at the Doctor over 
his glass of port. “He will be able to run and jump and 
swim against any man. Good Lord, there won’t be 
anyone to touch him! He’ll make a fine boxer, too . . . 
I’m teaching him. . . .” 

“Good!” said Pendlebury. “Do you remember . . .” 
They fell into reminiscences again, and talked far into the 
night of old times and old friends. 

Before he got into bed the Doctor looked out of his 
window. It was clear moonlight. The trees whispered 
softly. The air was very sweet. Under the oak-tree he 
could see the outline of the boy’s figure in the hammock, 
with the small black dog beside him. On the branch 
immediately above sat a white owl, with all its feathers 
fluffed, solemnly asleep. 

Pendlebury owned to himself that he was intrigued. 
He would have liked to explore further into the mystery 
that surrounded the boy. It was annoying of old Jimmy 
. . . and yet . . . perhaps he was right. Still . . . 
He laughed. Without doubt he was feeling like the 
gentleman who said that if he met a fairy he would 
want to put it in a cage and watch it. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


133 


The next morning he tried to wheedle—and the Doctor 
was a specious wheedler—something out of Mistress 
Jones. To his astonishment she refused to answer his 
questions with every symptom of terror. She further 
protected herself from him behind her kitchen-table, and 
made the cryptic remark that “They who would be 
tempting Providence could expect what they would get.” 

Copper Top proved quite as unsatisfactory. At the 
first question he fled, and only appeared again just as 
Pendlebury was leaving. He brought with him Little 
Wolf and Sandy Puss and his pet pigeon to say good¬ 
bye. He had a dormouse in his pocket to show Pendle¬ 
bury “because you are so very like him sometimes,” and 
they all, with the addition of King Edward, escorted 
Pendlebury to the top of the woodland path. He was 
consciously pleased; and when Copper Top said, “Come 
again soon,” he felt as flattered as if he had received 
some genuine distinction. Certainly he would come 
again! He would have liked to make a longer stay now. 
He almost regretted that dinner at the Portfolio Club. 
But he had to propose the health of the Guest of the 
Evening. An important matter. However, he would 
certainly come again. The boy was a fascinating little 
fellow. Besides, the whole affair intrigued him. Once 
or twice on the way to the station he considered making 
another effort to persuade the Professor to let him try 
to get into touch with the boy’s subconscious mind. 
Very interesting—and might be useful. Pendlebury was 
undoubtedly a little obsessed with psycho-analysis at the 
moment, but he remembered the Professor’s wrath on the 
previous evening, and decided it was no use. Very 
stupid of Jimmy! Perhaps at Cambridge. . . . 

Pie did, however, make another suggestion, after they 
had carefully thrashed out the possibility of most well- 


134 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


known schools. Ke made it at the last minute with his 
head out of the carriage window as the train moved out 
of the station. 

“Consult some sensible woman,” he called. 

The Professor nodded vigorously and waved his stick. 

“Marion!” he said to himself. “She ought to be 
back any day now.” 


CHAPTER VII 


Two days later the flag was flying over Mentmore 
Castle. The Condors were back. Everybody was pleased. 
There was, in some vague way, at once more interest and 
colour in the life of the village. 

Certainly while the Family had been away the villagers 
had thoroughly enjoyed hearing the “chap from London” 
launch highly coloured invective against the great land- 
owners. They had relished being told what infinitely 
superior beings they were themselves. His lurid pictures 
of vice and luxury among the aristocracy were as good as 
a cinema play, and they applauded them as such. Some of 
them, it is possible, yearned to be equally vicious and lux¬ 
urious, just as boys yearn to be ruthless pirates ruling with 
strange oaths from blood-stained quarter-decks. But for 
the most part they had more than a suspicion that if the 
Family were turned out of the Castle, and their land 
confiscated for the People, the man who would reign 
there in his lordship’s place would be the “chap from 
London” himself or one like unto him, and Mentmore 
village knew what that meant. They preferred the 
Family. His lordship had always bought his sweets from 
the Post Mistress ever since he could toddle; “No pepper¬ 
mint bull’s-eyes like yours, Mrs. Mankelow,” he still said 
to this very day. He would be round after some before 
long. Her ladyship would be about again in her bath 


1 35 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


136 

chair in the latest hat from Paris, and every girl in the 
village would be able to copy it. She would be deeply 
interested in all that had taken place during her absence, 
from old Thomas Wheatley’s last illness to the Black¬ 
smith’s twins and Mrs. Boulter’s glass eye. Also the 
Vicar had started a troop of Boy Scouts, and every son’s 
mother was dying to show him off in his uniform. 

Now at Cherryston, five miles down the road, what 
had happened when the Family had to leave owing to so 
many killed in the war, and Death Duties what they are ? 
The new landlord had turned all the Cherryston people 
out of their homes, and put his own people in. “Not for 
us, thank you, young man,” said Mrs. Mankelow to the 
phap from London. “We know the worst of the Family 
and we stand by them, whatever you in the towns may 
do.” 

As for Lady Condor herself, she was enchanted to be 
back. She had loved her time in Australia. They were 
dear people. She had nearly cried when she sailed out 
of Sydney harbour sitting on a deck which seemed covered 
with flowers, talking of all the kindness she had received, 
and waving sometimes a handkerchief, sometimes a scarf, 
at the receding shore. But she had quite cried when she 
saw the dear white cliffs of England, cried so heartily 
that she had to go down to her cabin and be made up 
again, hurriedly, before she was fit to be seen. 

“The best part of going away is coming home!” she 
announced on the first day of her return. She was en¬ 
throned under her favourite beech tree having tea. Lord 
Condor sat on her right hand, his special place at tea 
time. 

“I agree with you, Paddy,” he said. 

He was a very tall, enormously stout man, so stout that 
any claim Lady Condor might have to that condition faded 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


137 


into insignificance when beside him. His voice was very 
soft and thick, with at the same time the beauty of perfect 
pronunciation. It seemed to suit him in a quite extra¬ 
ordinary way. His face was perfectly round, the features, 
in themselves good, partially buried in many rolls of flesh. 
His whole aspect one of benign good nature. It was only 
an occasional flash from the twinkling eyes half hidden 
under their fleshy lids that revealed the keen intelligence 
which had made him a name in the political world. 

The West Highland pack were assembled in various 
eager attitudes round the tea-table, and both Lord and 
Lady Condor fed them shamelessly. Their greeting to 
their mistress on her return had to be seen to be appre¬ 
ciated. It is certain no one had been able to hear them¬ 
selves speak for the space of five minutes, during which 
time Lady Condor and the dogs had been one indistin¬ 
guishable mass, two scarves and one veil were torn into 
pieces, and she had said, “There, darlings! What! so 
pleased!” till she was hoarse. 

Lord and Lady Hawkhurst were sitting together on a 
basket sofa with many cushions, and near them, in a small 
wicker-chair with a small wicker-table all to herself, 
Marion Rosamund Helen Emily, the sole daughter of 
the Condor house. She was busy watching her new 
grandmother, whom she found of quite absorbing in¬ 
terest. She was also making an excellent tea. 

“How green it is!” exclaimed Lady Condor for about 
the twentieth time since her arrival in England. She 
looked out across her beautiful lawns with the delight of 
a child. “Was it always so green? Or didn’t one notice 
it ? I will never grumble at our climate again. And the 
trees ... I had no idea what wonderful things they are. 
Of course they have wattle-trees—very pretty—and 
eucalyptus-trees in Australia, but not dear green things 


138 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


like these.” She waved a sugared cake at the beech-leaf 
canopy above and around her. 

“And how good to see you two darlings again. Dear 
Connie, you are lovelier than ever. And Tony not one 
bit older except for the little grey in his nice curly hair, 
which is most becoming. Why should iron-grey hair be 
so becoming to a man and so trying for a woman ? They 
have all the advantages, don’t they? And do tell me 
. . . am I not really thinner? I have not dared to be 
weighed for fear of a disappointment! But I think I 
really am, and without getting wrinkled either. . . .” 

“You are lovelier than ever too, Mums,” said her son, 
and meant it. 

He himself was a very complete specimen of the best 
type of the conventional English aristocrat. As immacu¬ 
late in his morals, his behaviour, and his beliefs as he 
was in his dress. And yet even on his delicate suscep¬ 
tibilities his mother, with all her oddities, never jarred. 

She beamed at him. “Dear Tony! You spoil me. 
But it is very pleasant. Who was it said you should 
spare the rod and spoil the child? Solomon, was it not? 
Yes. Are the flowers more beautiful than usual this 
year, or is it because I have not seen them for so long? 
And Tomlins has taken so much trouble to have every¬ 
thing in perfection for our return. I had not the heart to 
tell him he ought never to have put scarlet geraniums near 
Dorothy Perkins. I even said they looked very nice-” 

“Liars have their portion in the Lake of Fire,” said 
Marion Rosamund Helen Emily in a peculiarly clear and 
distinct voice. 

The remark was followed by silence. Even Lady Con¬ 
dor was momentarily flabbergasted. 

“Hush, Ishtar!” said her mother. 

Lady Condor looked at Lord Condor, who appeared to 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


i39 


be struggling with a crumb which had gone the wrong 
way. “Is it the Roman Catholics or the Mormons,” she 
murmured, “who forbid ... ?” 

“I will hush in a minute,” said Ishtar very quickly in 
her clear little voice, “but I do want to ask Grannie if 
she has told ’nuff lies yet to get her portion. ’Cos 
I’m not ’lowed to tell lies like grown up people do, and 
I do so want mine. I should love a little lake of fire, 
and I would put my ugly new hat in it an’ my ’rithmetic 
book and Nana sometimes and see them burrrrn-” 

When Ishtar felt dramatic she had a habit of rolling 
her r’s like a French child. 

“That would be very naughty and cruel of you,” said 
Lady Hawkhurst, “And if you have finished your tea 
you can go, and perhaps Grannie will give you some cake 
for the gold fish.” 

Ishtar’s eyes remained firmly fixed on Lady Condor. 
She swiftly seized another slice of bread and butter and 
began to eat it slowly. 

“You’re in for it, Marion,” murmured Lord Condor, 
and chuckled. Amusing things, children. He wished he 
had had the time to see more of his when they were 
young. Ricky now. . . . His thoughts wandered, as 
they so often did, to the son who had died at Gallipoli. 
He used to ask just the same odd questions. Ishtar had 
a look of him. . . . 

“Have you got your portion yet, Grannie?” persisted 
Ishtar. 

“No, darling, not yet,” replied Lady Condor thus 
driven. “But I have no doubt I shall one day. I certainly 
deserve it,” she added, as Ishtar was summarily removed, 
bread and butter in hand, to the gold fish. 

“But what can one do? Even Father Vaughan and 
Dean Inge don’t speak the truth. Though of course I am 



140 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


sure they are quite honest when they talk all that dreadful 
nonsense, and believe it is the truth—poor dears. They 
mean well, I am quite sure, and I used to be sorry for 
them. But I am not sorry for the Pessimists any longer. 
It came over me the other day on board ship when I was 
reading something the poor Dean had written. If you 
think nobody is any good at all it makes things so simple. 
Because there is, of course, nothing to be done except 
tell them so. But the poor Optimists, who think well of 
everybody, they, of course, must get such dreadful disap¬ 
pointments, and they go on trying to make people good 
—and that must be much harder work, than telling them 
how bad they are.” 

Lord Hawkhurst giggled. He loved what his brother 
Ricky used to call “Mother’s ingenious nonsense.” It 
was extremely good to hear some of it again. Extremely 
good to see her once more having tea under the old 
beech tree with his father sitting in his usual odd position 
at her elbow, occasionally pouring the wrong liquid into 
the wrong utensil with an amiable desire to be helpful. 
As Ricky used to say, “Alice’s Mad Tea-Party wasn’t 
in it.” 

“Why on earth did we ever go away for five whole 
years, Condor?” asked Lady Condor, changing the sub¬ 
ject with her usual suddenness. “It was most foolish and 
a long time out of three-score years and ten, which is a 
wretched allowance, whatever David may have thought 
of it. But now I see there is a man who has found out 
how to make us live for ever by grafting something out 
of a monkey into us. Only unfortunately he died him¬ 
self—or was it the man he grafted? And how dreadful 
if the man turned into a monkey like a briar rose turns 
into a tea when you graft on to it. One can never tell 
with all these new experiments, can one?” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


141 

“The man it was who died,” quoted her son. “So 
the renewed youth scare is over for the present.” 

“Ah, now I remember!” exclaimed Lady Condor. 
“Yes! It didn’t seem to make one look young, it only 
made one feel young, didn’t it? And that might lead to 
most difficult situations. What a mercy the man died, 
for us as well as for the poor monkeys. Do you remem¬ 
ber the one we had when you were all children, Tony? 
It used to cry if we left it alone, and cling to us with its 
little hands. Do they really cut glands out of them while 
they are still alive? But where were we? Oh—yes! 
What a merciful thing the man died of it—you know 
what I mean—as the doctors would have insisted on us 
all being grafted. There is a visitor coming up the drive! 
But never mind. I said ‘not at home’ our first day, 
except to dear Arthur, and he is coming to dinner.” 

Lord Condor craned a long neck from his chair so that 
he too could see over the yew hedge. 

“I know that walk,” he said. “Who the devil— why, 
it’s Jim Godolphin by all that’s wonderful-” 

“Run, Tony dear, and say we are all here!” cried Lady 
Condor. “Fancy him coming to see us at once-” 

“I’ll go,” interposed Lord Condor, heaving his massive 
weight out of his chair. “I should like a chat with old 
Jimmy before you get hold of him, Marion. No one else 
has a look in then!” 

He smiled at her and moved away with the surprisingly 
light step of the very stout man. 

“Dear James!” Lady Condor continued to exclaim. 
“How very nice of him! He must have missed me more 
than he expected. And good gracious—the baby! I had 
almost forgotten it! What has happened to the baby, I 
wonder? Have either of you seen anything of James?” 

“Nothing,” answered her son. “I believe he made a 




142 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


most amazing speech in Fairbridge a little while ago. 
Everyone was talking about it. He took the chair for old 
Elwyn Clough, who was speaking on the Darwinian 
Theory or something of the sort. The Hall was packed 
I heard. I suppose that was why Pinniger asked James 
to take the chair. He was a draw, of course.” 

“I would have loved to have been there,” sighed Lady 
Condor. “It is too bad. I attend so many dull meet¬ 
ings—and dear James shocked them terribly, I suppose.” 

“I don’t know. When people mentioned it to me I 
changed the subject. After all, James is our cousin, 
though only a second one. One dislikes his—his impos¬ 
sible views,” concluded Lord Hawkhurst. 

“I did hear something about the baby,” said Lady 
Hawkhurst. “Now what was it?” 

“It would be about Ishtar’s age,” said Lady Condor. 
“It was found the day she was born, I remember.” 

“What did I hear?” Lady Hawkhurst continued. “The 
child plays with all the wild creatures, and goes about 
with nothing on or something of the sort. Though of 
course that cannot be true. It would not be allowed I 
should not think, even in a forest.” 

“Of course not,” said her husband. “But a child 
brought up by James is probably peculiar, to say the least 
of it.” 

“P’raps he wears skins,” suggested Ishtar hopefully. 
She had returned as soon as was possible from the gold 
fish. She found her Grandmother of infinitely greater 
interest, and she saw to it that she was peacefully seated 
in her little wicker-chair, nursing her Teddy Bear, when 
Lady Condor and the Professor settled down later on 
to a tete-a-tete under the beech tree. She wanted dread¬ 
fully to hear some more about the boy who played with 
the wild creatures and perhaps dressed in skins. Perhaps 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


143 


they were wolf skins! Perhaps there were still wolves 
away in the big forest. She did not care if there were! 
She would like to go and see the boy who played with the 
wild creatures. Perhaps even he played with the wolves. 
Her eyes shone. She sat very very quiet and listened. 

The Professor beamed at Lady Condor. “I am pro¬ 
foundly glad to see you back, Marion,” he said. 

Lady Condor beamed at him. “That means you have 
been getting into mischief, James, and want me to get 
you out of it,” she answered. The idea evidently pleased 
her. “What terrible scrapes I used to help you out of 
when you were a boy. Do you remember-?” 

“I do, Marion,” said the Professor, cutting the rem¬ 
iniscence off at its birth, considerably to Ishtar’s disap¬ 
pointment. “And I want your help now. It is about the 
boy . . .” 

“Ah!” exclaimed Lady Condor, with unusual brev¬ 
ity. 

“You see,” began the Professor, and took off his hat 
for it was a close evening. 

“James! What a curious hat,” interrupted Lady Con¬ 
dor. “Where did you buy-?” 

“I don’t know,” answered the Professor hurriedly. 
“You see while you have been away I wrote another 
book . . .” 

“Oh yes, dear James! I saw it advertised. ‘The 
Human Fandango,’ isn’t it? Such an interesting title I 
thought ... but surely a Fandango is something 
Spanish. . . .” 

“Fiasco,” said the Professor. “Well, it took all my 
time—naturally, and I quite forgot to have the boy chris¬ 
tened. ...” 

“But how do you know he was not christened when 
you found him?” 



144 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“God bless my soul, Marion, I never thought of it ! M 
He looked at her with sincere admiration. “Then you 
think there is no need . . . ?” 

“Most children are christened before they are six 
months old,” said Lady Condor thoughtfully, “but of 
course we do not know under what name. By the way, 
James, what is his name?” 

The Professor distorted the shape of his beard in a 
guilty manner. 

“Well,” he said, “he is always called Copper Top, but 
for—well for official purposes I’ve given his name as 
James Godolphin, after myself.” 

“James!” And for once Lady Condor restricted the 
expression of her feelings to one word. 

The Professor took a more firm hold of his beard and 
looked across the terraced gardens to the wide stretch of 
open park beyond, and then to the soft masses of the 
great forest stretching up and up to the far hills. The 
sun had just dipped below the horizon. They lay bathed 
in the after-glow, infinitely remote and desirable. 

“Yes, I know, Marion,” he said very gently for him. 
“I know every word that you want to say. Errmph! 
Yes. But as it happens, I am as fond of the little chap 
as if he were the one who went with Margot long ago— 
so you see-” 

“Yes, dear James, I see,” answered Lady Condor, and 
hunted for her handkerchief because there were ridiculous 
tears suddenly in her eyes. She thought of Ricky, and 
of that grave with the wooden cross, as she so often did 
in spite of her enjoyment of life. “There are feelings 
you can’t reason with. That sort for instance. Perhaps 
they are beyond Reason . . . because there must be some¬ 
thing beyond Reason, mustn’t there? It would be so 
dreadful if there were not. But where were we? Oh, 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


145 


yes! The christening. I think he must certainly ‘have 
been christened, but perhaps it would be safest to have it 
done again. What happens if you are not christened? 
Is it you cannot be buried—at least not in the proper 
place? Of course, too, it may not be legal to be christened 
twice, a sort of bigamy, you know. James, I am getting 
dreadfully muddled. Would it not be wise to consult 
Condor?” 

“I am more inclined to leave it that he has already 
been christened,” said the Professor. “I can’t think why 
I did not think of that before. Neither did Pendlebury. 
You see . . .” He paused, wondering if he should tell 
her some of the difficulties that might attend any attempt 
to christen Copper Top. Since his attack on Charles 
Pendlebury over the blue-bell music, the Professor was 
more than ever doubtful as to what might happen. Such 
an attack on the Archdeacon in full canonicals in a sacred 
edifice—it did not bear thinking of. Even on the little 
Mentmore parson it would be most unseemly. Finally 
he decided not to tell Lady Condor. It might prejudice 
her against the boy before she had seen him. 

In the meantime Lady Condor had not ceased to talk, 
and had become inextricably mixed up between Baptism, 
Registration, and Vaccination, before he turned his atten¬ 
tion to her again. 

“You know, James, it is really rather dreadful how 
ignorant we are of the things one has done to one’s chil¬ 
dren,” she was saying when he did. “One has them 
christened always, of course, and I have been Godmother 
to quite a large number of babies, and now I come to 
think of it I promised quite a number of important things 
in their name. I believe I vowed them, or is that in 
another service? But how can you make other people 
keep promises you have made? Though I have always 


146 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


sent them presents on their birthdays. Miss Tucker re¬ 
minds me of them as they come round—it is the only 
way. But whether they keep my promises or not, of 
course I do not know. I can’t quite remember what I did 
promise. I believe there was something about picking 
and stealing—but of course they would not do that! 
Have you ever been a Godfather, James?” 

“Never,” said the Professor. “But I read the Cate¬ 
chism the other day, and I can tell you what you did 
promise.” 

“I think, dear James, I had rather you did not. But I 
will make a point of reading all the promises before I am 
a Godmother again. And now you mention it I think 
you have to see that they know the Catechism. But I 
expect the governesses really always see to that. I know 
mine did, because my poor dear Ricky asked the most 
awkward questions. I had to distract his mind, I re¬ 
member, with ‘The Swiss Family Robinson’.” 

“Marion!” exclaimed the Professor; his mind had been 
wandering among his own thoughts again. “You are un¬ 
doubtedly the most wonderful woman! You have entirely 
set my mind at rest over this matter! Without doubt the 
boy had already been christened when I found him. In 
any case it will not be long now before he can promise 
things for himself.” 

“But there still remains the question of vaccination,” 
said Lady Condor. “Has the child any marks?” 

“Not a sign of one!” exclaimed the Professor trium¬ 
phantly. “There, Marion, I want no advice. I am on 
my own ground. I have studied the matter thoroughly, 
and I am a Conscientious Objector.” 

“Of course, dear James ! You would be! But pray do 
not call yourself one! Because they got such a dreadful 
name in the war, and I know Tony would not like people 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


147 


to think we had one in the family. Do call yourself an 
Anti-Vaccinationist or something like that. But suppose 
the child gets smallpox ?” 

“Five million chances to one against it!” exclaimed the 
Professor. “And to insure against such odds you suggest 
that I should submit the child to a dose of blood poisoning 
from calf pus . . .” 

“No, dear James, I do not. . . 

“The National Health Bill stamped out smallpox. 
>> 

“Of course, James, when your beard is at that angie 
I know it is useless . . 

“But unfortunately Vaccination got the credit, and is 
now firmly established as one of the fetishes of our civi¬ 
lisation—so-called,” the Professor continued firmly. “It 
will remain a Fetish, I suppose, when people have forgot¬ 
ten what smallpox was. We are ruled by Fetishes! Our 
present Medical Fetish is the pitting of poison against 
poison in the human body, playing monkey tricks with the 
blood of the race . . 

“I wish you would leave off talking business,” broke 
in a piteous little voice. “I do want to hear about the 
boy who plays with the wild creatures and dresses in skins, 
and Nana will be here directly-” 

“God bless my soul!” exclaimed the Professor. “Who 
are you, little lady?” 

He looked at Ishtar for the first time. She was sitting 
bolt upright in her chair, her small hands tightly clasped 
together above two slim straight legs cased in white silk. 
Her face was a very decided oval. Her eyes big and 
grey and set rather widely apart under pathetic eyebrows 
and a soft burnished wave of fair hair as in a Romney 
picture. Her mouth was small and curved. She made 
the Professor think of a dignified white Persian kitten. 



148 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“I am Ishtar,” she said. “And I want you to tell me 
about the boy who plays with the wild creatures, and 
if he wears wolf skins.” 

“Well, no, he doesn’t,” said the Professor. “You see 
there aren’t any wolves in our forest.” 

Ishtar sighed. “I was ’fraid there wouldn’t be. It’s 
like the Lake of Fire.” 

“But there are lots of other things. Deer and squirrels 
and rabbits, you know, and birds. He plays with them 

_ ft 

Suddenly Ishtar came close and laid a small urgent 
hand upon his knee. Her white flower face assumed an 
imperative aspect. 

“Ask Grannie for me to stay annuzer five minutes!” 
she whispered hurriedly, and the Professor became aware 
that a capped and aproned Being had appeared on the 
horizon. 

Ishtar’s great eyes met his in comradeship. She knew 
this man was on her side. Of course he would pick her 
up and hold her at an uncomfortable angle on a hard knee. 
He would kiss her. She shivered a little. He had a 
beard. Beards were scrubbly things. They had such a 
funny fuzzly feel. She hated it. But she badly wanted 
the extra five minutes. 

“Marion,” said the Professor, “ward bedtime off for 
a bit.” And to Ishtar’s relief and astonishment he did 
not pick her up, he did not even put one of those dread¬ 
fully uncomfortable arms round her to drag her closer 
to him. He did not touch the small hand upon his knee. 
But he stuck his beard out at a comical angle and smiled. 
His eyes were the same colour as the sky. She liked his 
face. 

Lady Condor rose from her chair. “Why, here is 
Nana,” she said briskly. “I have not had a word with 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


149 


her yet. I have not even asked after her rheumatism/’ 
She billowed towards Nana, talking as she went. Connie 
was not far away, and Connie was a martinet. She had 
been adamant in the days when Grannie had asked for 
an extra few minutes at bedtime for Ishtar’s brothers. 
Lady Condor became positively engrossed in Nana’s 
rheumatic symptoms. 

“Don’t the ’quirrels run away?” asked Ishtar. “They 
always do. Right up high in the trees. Even when I 
take them nuts they won’t come.” 

“No, they don’t run away,” said the Professor. 

“Why don’t they?” 

“That’s what I don’t know myself,” replied the Pro¬ 
fessor. 

“Won’t he tell you?” 

“He would tell me I expect if I could understand.” 

Ishtar pressed her small hands tightly together. “I 
would so love to,” she said. “John says there are no 
such things as Fairies, or the Sleeping Beauty, or real 
Peter Pans, but there is butterflies, and ’quirrels, and tiny 
little birds, but they’re no good when they all fly awav 
and won’t play. Do you think you could ask me to come 
and play with your boy?” 

She poured it all out breathlessly for her time was 
short. 

“Of course I could,” replied the Professor. “I’ll fix 
it up with Grannie this very minute. Then you can ask 
him all about it, can’t you?” 

He was delighted. A great thing for Copper Top. 
Another child to play with. And he would probably like 
this small white maiden. An attractive little piece of 
femininity. A pity she must grow up. A pity Copper 
Top must grow up. A Peter Pan! Why not a real 
Peter Pan? 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


150 

“Do you think he’d teach me how to make the ’quirrels 
not afraid?” 

“Well, why not?” 

“And does he run about in the woods just as he likes?” 

“Well, pretty much,” said the Professor guardedly. 

Ishtar’s hands were now clasped tightly against her 
small chest. Her eyes shone. It was almost too much. 
Lady Condor and Nana approached. 

“You won’t forget,” she implored. 

“You may depend on me,” replied the Professor 
earnestly. 

“Now say good night, Miss Ishtar, and come along,” 
said the Voice of Authority. 

Ishtar said good night. Her handshake with the Pro¬ 
fessor was almost a ritual, so solemn was it, so full of 
meaning. The small figure moved away obediently by 
Nana’s side and probably only the Professor at all under¬ 
stood the wealth of revolt hidden under that good little 
exterior. But Ishtar had something of the same dignity 
as the Pekinese dog. Like it she submitted because of her 
helplessness in stronger hands, and she abhorred the in¬ 
dignity of a futile struggle. Usually on these occasions 
she could willingly have placed Nana in the Lake of Fire 
or anywhere else that would have safely removed her, but 
to-night a vision of freedom and lawlessness had flashed 
upon her. She was going to play with the boy who lived 
in the forest, who played with the deer and rabbits and 
squirrels and with the birds and butterflies. It seemed 
almost too good to be true. But she had faith in the 
Professor. Mums and Nana often promised things 
which never came to pass, not really . The Professor was 
a different matter. Somehow she felt he would produce 
the real thing. And he had not kissed her. He was a 
funny man. She liked him. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


151 

Which showed that Copper Top had succeeded in 
educating the Professor to some extent, just as the Pro¬ 
fessor had succeeded to some extent in educating him. 

“And now, dear James, where were we?” asked Lady 
Condor, returning to her chair. “And what do you think 
of the only girl of the Family? I am foolishly and hope¬ 
lessly in love with the darling. She is to spend the rest 
of the summer with me while Hawkhurst and Connie do 
the usual round. They like it still—what there is left of 
it—London, Cowes, Scotland—yes—but Condor and I 
have decided to stay at home. Just a week or two in 
Scotland perhaps. And Ishtar is to stay with us and 
Heaven alone knows what will happen. I shall be as 
wax in her hands. Wax! And dear Connie has trained 
her so beautifully it is really a pity. She will return and 
find us all, even Nana, as doormats before Ishtar. But 
I do not tell her so. Sometimes I suspect,” she looked 
at the Professor comically, “that it will be a blessing in 
disguise. The child’s body is obedient—terribly obedient 
—but her mind is in rebellion. To tell you the truth. 
James, and I have never dared reveal it to anyone else, 
I mistrust very good children. My poor dear Ricky was 
always in mischief—he fell into the manure-water pond 
in his best velvet suit once being Blondin on the tight 
r 0 pe—that sort of thing—very tiresome of course—and 
Condor would whip him—though I explained that it 
showed imagination—and you know what Ricky was 
when he grew up.” 

The Professor nodded. His silence was full of sym¬ 
pathy. He agreed with Marion entirely. She was the 
most understanding woman he had ever met. He knew 
exactly what she was driving at and he agreed with her 
entirely. 

“This little chap of mine, Marion-” he began. 


152 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


‘‘Of course,” exclaimed Lady Condor. “That is where 
we were! I could not remember. Now tell me all about 
him. I forgot if we settled whether he was baptised or 
not.” 

“I propose to leave that matter in abeyance until the 
boy is old enough to consider these things for himself,” 
said the Professor magisterially. “But his Education is 
becoming an anxiety to me-” 

“I think, dear James,” interrupted Lady Condor, “you 
had better make a clean breast of it.” 

And the Professor did so. He told her briefly but 
sufficiently as nearly as he could the evolution of Copper 
Top since he had picked him up off the forest pathway 
to the present moment. And Lady Condor was so in¬ 
terested that except for some odd exclamations and 
chuckles she never interrupted him once. 

When he had finished she remained in profound 
thought for the space of two minutes and came out of it 
with her usual suddenness. 

“Do I understand, James, that the child has never been 
outside the forest?” 

“No, Marion.” 

“He has never seen a Town or a Village or a Railway 
or other Children or People-?” 

“No, Marion, of course he has not!” 

“And he has learnt nothing except what you have 
taught him?” 

“He has not.” 

“Dear! Dear!” said Lady Condor. She looked all 
round her in a helpless way. At Hawkhurst and Connie 
returning from their usual little constitutional together, 
at her husband strolling along the path that led from the 
farm, at one of the men-servants pulling up the sun- 
blinds outside the drawing-room windows. By all these 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


153 

signs she knew that in exactly five minutes the dressing 
gong would sound. 

“Dear! Dear!” she said again and looked at the Pro¬ 
fessor. He met the look with one in which guilt and 
defiance were justly mingled. Lady Condor chuckled. 
Her chuckle was as infectious as her smile. 

“James!” she exclaimed, “I ought to scold you! But 
how can I ? Because I am delighted with the whole 
affair. It is like a real live Barrie play! It is most 

amusing. And Ishtar-” She stopped quite suddenly. 

Lady Hawkhurst’s graceful figure, moving with perfect 
dignity, crossed her line of vision, on the way in to dress 
for dinner. Lord Condor had stopped at a rose tree and 
was busy pinching a caterpillar to death in his tightly- 
rolled green shelter. 

“Dear James! Perhaps I had better come out and see 
your little man—he sounds delightful—but still one has 
responsibilities. . . .” Her eyes dwelt on Lord Hawk¬ 
hurst’s well-groomed back following his wife’s into the 
Castle. “I will come up in the bath chair the very first 
free afternoon I have. And then you shall have my con¬ 
sidered opinion as to what is the best thing to be done.” 

She rose, and felt she had escaped a possible danger. 
Without due forethought she might easily have found 
herself on the horns of a serious dilemma—though why 
horns? From which she could only have extricated 
herself by hurting James’ feelings. He was evidently 
devoted to the boy. But though the boy sounded lovely 
he might be impossible—quite impossible. After all there 
was a cowboy at the Cottage—and children picked up 
things—generally the bad ones—not the good—why 

The Professor picked up Lady Condor’s things. A 
parasol, a handkerchief, a half withered rose and a bead 



154 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


bag. He knew everything that was passing through Lady 
Condor’s mind, but he could afford to ignore it. He had 
faith in Ishtar. Also he ha4 faith in Copper Top’s charm. 

He went home very satisfied with his visit and happier 
in his mind about the boy than he had been for some time. 
The best teacher for a boy is a girl. Boys who had 
sisters—girls who had brothers—always better equipped 
to face the world. And Copper Top would have a child 
to play with, a good thing. Marion. He chuckled as he 
plodded up the forest path. Marion meant to inspect 
Copper Top before she allowed Ishtar to come. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Lady Condor undoubtedly felt that Copper Top should 
be interviewed and very carefully inspected before her 
small grand-daughter was allowed to play with him. She 
also decided to take Mr. Fothersley with her on her visit 
of inspection. She would be fortified by his opinion. 
Arthur Fothersley was as strictly conventional as dear 
Connie herself. If the boy were in any way unsuitable 
as a companion for Ishtar he would not be carried away 
by the charm which appealed even in mere description. 
Yes, she would take Arthur, and then, after due consul¬ 
tation, if they thought it advisable, she would ask the 
little fellow down to the Castle sometimes to play with 
Ishtar. In the forest—no! It would be far better not. 

So Lady Condor proposed, but the Professor’s faith 
was not misplaced and Ishtar disposed otherwise. 

She pursued her desire with the terrible persistence 
of a small blue-bottle. Toys and sweets, picnics and 
children’s parties, even the start of haymaking raised no 
enthusiasm in her small breast. 

“I want to see the boy who plays with ’quirrels,” was 
her invariable cry, whether Grannie returned from town 
with the car full of toys or motored her to Brighton to 
dig on the sands. 

The boy who played with ’quirrels stood now in her 
mind for Freedom, for a Life in which you came and 
went at your own will. In which there were no regular 
times or seasons fixed and unalterable for all things. A 
world in which you lived and moved free from any ruling 


i55 


156 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

power that ordered things just as it chose—stupidly and 
unreasonably it seemed to Ishtar, that was always saying 
“don’t” or “do” as the case might be, often for no 
apparent reason whatsoever. Ishtar did what she was 
told, she was looked upon more or less by her parents as 
a model child, and it was only Lady Condor who sus¬ 
pected that her good behaviour was of the same descrip¬ 
tion as that of the Pekinese dog, that underneath her 
outward small dignified personality seethed something 
that might astonish dear Connie one of these days. That 
passionate craving for man’s unalienable right to Liberty, 
to personal initiative. Every day Lady Condor noticed 
more and more that likeness which her husband had seen 
on their first evening at home to the son who was buried 
at Gallipoli. The likeness was not only physical, it was 
also mental, a resemblance of outlook, a curious applica¬ 
tion of the word “Why.” Ricky had been more trouble 
than all the other boys, but how funny, how deliciously 
funny, his worst exploits had been and the terrible things 
he used to say! Lady Condor giggled even now when 
odd expressions of his came back to her. But how glad 
and gay a thing he had made of his few short years of 
life. An anxiety—yes. It would never do if Ishtar 
really took after him. And yet how much more interest¬ 
ing she would be than if she were like dear Connie. Lady 
Condor hurriedly put this thought away from her, for it 
savoured of disloyalty. Connie had made Tony an ad¬ 
mirable wife, and she had been an equally admirable 
daughter-in-law. Her two boys were everything that 
one could possibly wish. Their health, their school re¬ 
ports, their general behaviour, all were excellent. Their 
outlook on life was that of their father and his father 
before him, and his father before that. They were ab¬ 
solutely true to type and a very fine type it was. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


J 57 


Lady Condor reminded herself of all this, because her 
thoughts were rather like England, they generally mud¬ 
dled through somehow, and they had on this occasion 
muddled through to the dreadful fact that she had really 
quite wished, though only for a few moments, that Ishtar 
really would astonish dear Connie one of these days. In 
quite a nice way of course. 

Seeing the small person flitting about the garden like a 
white butterfly it was quite impossible to imagine her 
being anything but quite nice. Still there was that un¬ 
doubted likeness to poor dear Ricky. Lady Condor 
chuckled even with the tears in her eyes. She had never 
been able to deny him anything. She was equally unable 
to resist Ishtar. So when she finally started for the Little 
House in the forest to inspect Copper Top Ishtar sat 
triumphantly upon her knee. 

Her eyes shone; in her usually pale little face bloomed 
two soft roses. Her hands were clasped tightly together 
in her lap. Only the discipline of her lifetime kept her 
quiet. Indeed she hardly knew how much she wanted to 
sing, to make a noise of some sort. She was out on an 
adventure for the very first time in her life. It was that 
lavish thing a morning in a fine July. The world was 
full of warmth, of fragrance, of song. Ishtar was con¬ 
scious of all three as a Unity. They blent into one perfect 
thing. A passion and a call were in her blood, and she 
herself was a vibrating centre of complete and for the 
moment sufficing happiness. Presently, however, she 
would get away from Grannie and Uncle Arthur and the 
bath chair and slip off with the boy who played with the 
creatures, into the green wonder world which for her had 
only lain hitherto on each -side of her path. She was 
going to step out of the path into it all and find . . . 
What would she find? She did not know. She only 


158 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


knew it must be something thrilling. Something Peter 
Pannish. She shivered with anticipation, with delight. 

The green world gleamed and whispered. It looked 
at her with soft, lustrous eyes. She wondered when she 
would see the Boy. She made a picture of him in her 
mind, like a picture she had seen in a book, with little 
wings of gold in his hair, and little wings of gold on his 
feet. She wondered if he would tell her how to make 
the creatures and the birds not afraid. She wondered if 
he would like her. Her brothers, some years older than 
she was, adored her, and had never made her feel her 
inferiority as a female thing. She thought the boy would 
be sure to like her. 

Lady Condor chattered, and Mr. Fothersley and Rob 
had various altercations, and the little dogs shrieked with 
the ecstasy of the chase among the undergrowth. Ishtar 
was oblivious to them all. She felt that the day of her 
life had come, and she was free to enjoy it as she would. 
She had never been out before without Mummy or Nana. 
Grannie somehow did not count. Grannie indeed was 
part of it. She was glad when the path began to wind 
up hill. She knew it had to be up hill. She began to 
look out for the Boy. Among the red boles of the fir 
trees seemed a likely place to meet him, or here, where 
the great green ferns grew like fans under the sunshiny 
leaves and there were thousands of little gold gnats like 
a tangled veil. 

But nothing happened. Rob struggled on and up and 
Grannie talked. And presently they came out into open 
fields, and there were cows and a donkey, and a Little 
Little House and Cousin James. Cousin James lifted her 
off Grannie’s knee and put her down on the garden path, 
but he did not say anything about the Boy. He and 
Grannie both talked at once, about something which had 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


159 


happened in the paper, and Uncle Arthur sat under a 
tree getting himself cool. Ishtar waited a little. Then 
she peeped over the low window-sill of the funny little 
house into a big room full of books. He was not there. 
A little further away she saw lots of flowers; he might 
be among them. She went on. There were heaps of 
flowers all over the place. Not a bit tidy, but Ishtar liked 
them. They smelt very sweet. She wished there were not 
so many bees getting honey out of the tall blue flowers. 
She was rather afraid of bees. But the spirit of adven¬ 
ture was upon her. She would not go back. The Voices 
were growing more and more distant. There were butter¬ 
flies everywhere. Lots more than she had ever seen 
before. She went down another little path. There were 
lilies here, enormous lilies, white with gold brown velvet 
in their insides. They smelt wonderful, and all about 
their feet grew blue flowers like eyes looking at her, and 
heaps of other littler flowers. They all looked at her. 
They seemed to know why she was here. The path was 
covered with moss just like green velvet covered with 
gold stars. She thought a moss path much prettier than 
gravel. It ran into a wood and then it spread out into a 
carpet. She was a little afraid now. The trees looked 
very big and they made a strange noise as of something 
mysterious coming. She could not hear Grannie’s voice 
any longer. But beyond the big trees, quite a good bit 
beyond, there was a lovely fairy-looking place, where the 
sun was shining on lots of leaves. They went dipple dap¬ 
ple, laughing and whispering to one another. 

She went on. Her little white figure moved warily. 
She glanced from side to side. She was alone; all alone 
in a forest. Mingled delight and terror stirred within 
her. Surely the Boy would come soon. 

She reached the sunlight again, and when she found 


160 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

herself in it then she knew how frightened she had been 
among the big trees where the deep shadows watched. 
Here there were little bushes, very green, with dainty fairy 
leaves moving softly, playing with the little breezes that 
smelt so good; and all around, wrapped in sunshine and 
quiet, looking down at her from far far up in the blue and 
white sky were more big trees; but she was not frightened 
of them any more. 

Winding in and out, appearing and disappearing be¬ 
tween the big trees, was a wide green pathway. At the 
end of it she could see the tall red boles of fir trees all 
in a misty veil. The air seemed full of dancing gold. It 
was a lovely place. 

She went a little way down the green pathway and saw 
that there were birds flying in the gold. Other birds were 
singing. 

And then the Boy came. 

He came with sun and wind and the sound of laughter 
and the song of the whole world. Even the leaves sang 
all around, even the little grasses among which her small 
white feet stood. 

He came flying among the tree trunks, in and out of 
the shade and the sun, like a bit of the wind incarnate. 
The birds glanced and shone around his head through the 
gold mist. He was singing, a song without words, but 
it did not need any words. 

Ishtar held her breath. Her hands were crossed just 
beneath her chin. She dared not move. It was a fairy 
tale come true. She believed in fairies. She did not care 
what anyone said! She believed in fairies. Perhaps the 
Boy was a Fairy really. Not just a Boy. A Peter Pan 
sort of fairy. And she was not asleep. She shut her 
eyes very tightly for one second and opened them again 
quickly. She was wide awake and it was real morning. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


161 


And the Boy had stopped running and was looking at her. 
He was the realist thing she had ever seen, the most alive. 
He looked at her very swiftly, he took in all of her at 
once. Oh! she wished Nana had let her wear her pretty 
hat, the hat she liked. Not this old thing. 

She tore it off and threw it on the ground and stood 
with her adorable little head bare, and she looked back at 
the Boy and smiled. 

Copper Top smiled too. They looked at each other 
from a little distance for quite a long time. He saw that 
she was as perfect as any flower of earth, as any star of 
heaven. They moved nearer to each other. 

“What is your name?” he asked. 

“Ishtar,” she whispered, and went close to him and 
kissed him on the cheek with her soft little mouth. 

“I like it,” he said gravely. “Where do you come from, 
Star?” 

“From Mentmore Castle,” she said. 

He looked disappointed, and she could not think why. 
She knew most people liked to meet those who lived in a 
Castle. 

“I thought perhaps you came from where I did,” he 
said. 

“Where is that, Boy?” 

Copper Top knitted his wide smooth brows. For a 
moment his shining face darkened, just as you may see 
a bright day darken when a little cloud floats momentarily 
over the sun. 

“I cannot remember,” he said. “It was everywhere, 
not just here.” 

“Was it very long ago?” she asked. 

“Sometimes it seems a very long time,” said Copper 
Top. 

“Does it make you sad?” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


162 

“Why should it make me sad?” he asked. “It is very 
pleasant here. Have you come to stay too, Star?” 

Ishtar shook her head. Her mouth drooped mourn¬ 
fully. “I shall have to go soon, I ’spect,” she said. “I 
came with Grannie. She will have to get back in time 
for lunch. We always have to get back in time for some¬ 
thing.” 

“We don’t here,” said Copper Top. “Things wait tor 
us. Why shouldn’t they?” 

Ishtar did not know. She sighed a little. “I’m always 
waiting for things or being in time for them,” she said. 

“That is a great pity,” said Copper Top gravely. “I 
think you had better stop with us. We do not bother 
about those things here. It is very pleasant.” 

He stood with his shining bare feet on the moss carpet. 
They were lovely feet. The sun was in his hair. The 
corners of his wide smiling mouth held secrets. There 
was a dimple which came and went in his cheek. Ishtar 
loved him very much. 

“Will you show me how to play with the ’quirrels and 
little rabbits?” she asked. 

“Why, that is easy enough!” said the Boy, and laughed. 
His laughter ran along the gold that shivered in the air 
and made it into waves. 

“Come!” he called, and was gone over the moss and 
the leaves in a flash. 

Ishtar ran too as fast as she could. Then she cried 
out and he came back to her. The cry sounded like one 
of his bird friends in distress. 

She slipped her hand into his and they walked together. 
Though she clung to his hand he did not mind. He 
liked the big silk wave on top of her head. He liked 
the fine texture of her skin, and the way the blood ebbed 
and flowed under it. He liked her wide solemn eyes and 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


163 

the curve of her mouth and her frock of white lace and 
her little white shoes. If she wanted to walk slowly he 
did not mind. He could look at her. 

They looked at each other, absorbing various details. 
Ishtar knew quite a number of little boys and she 
wondered why this boy felt “different somehow.” Be¬ 
cause there was nothing really different—not that she 
could see. He had not the little wings of gold, but then he 
did not need them. He moved like the wind. Birds 
flew all round him closer than she had ever seen them 
flying. She liked that. She could see the little soft fluff 
lining under their wings. Their bright eyes looking into 
hers. The boy brought the birds. ... A great dragon¬ 
fly darted and flashed across the sun track and she cried 
out with joy. Copper Top liked the sound of her cry. 
He held out his free hand and the beautiful creature 
flashed back again and settled there with its rainbow 
wings quivering. Ishtar saw its face—its eyes. 

“It has a face,” she said. 

“Why not?” asked Copper Top. 

The dragon-fly flashed away again and Copper Top 
led her on out of the pathway into the flickering shadow 
of a great beeGh tree. The gold-brown last-year leaves 
rustled beneath her feet, the shells of last-year nuts 
crackled. Copper Top had never seen any little girls 
except those who lived in the keeper’s cottage on the 
other side of the forest, and he had always kept away 
from them because he disliked the sound of their voices. 
This girl’s voice was soft and clear like the tinkling of 
falling streams, and when she spoke the words sang. He 
wanted her to speak again. 

“Lots of squirrels live in this tree,” he said. 

“Will they come down?” 

Copper Top called. It was like the note of a bird, but 


164 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

nothing happened. He called again. Then he looked 
at Ishtar. 

“Seems as if they’re ’fraid of you like they’>re ’fraid 
of ’Dophin,” he said. 

He caught a low branch in one hand and swung him¬ 
self up into the tree, springing from fork to fork until 
he disappeared from sight. A moment later his face 
gleamed down on her from very high up among the 
sway and flicker of thousands of leaves. A squirrel sat 
upon his shoulder. 

“Come up,” he called. “I won’t let it run away.” 

“I can't!” she called back desperately. 

“Why not?” asked Copper Top. 

He came down a little further and sat in a fork of 
the tree with his bare feet swinging. The squirrel came 
with him. Another peeped from the branch above his 
head, bright-eyed, inquisitive. 

It was too much! For one impossible moment Ishtar 
felt she must—she would do as Copper Top had done. 
She took a step forward, looked up again to the dizzy 
height where he sat laughing among the squirrels, and 
quailed before it. 

“I can’t climb a tree,” she wailed despairingly. “I’ve 
never been ’lowed to climb.” 

Copper Top began to understand. She was not like 
himself. She was like all the other people he knew. It 
gave him a funny aching feeling somewhere inside him. 
But he knew from her voice that she had an ache too. 
He slipped down to the ground and stood looking at her 
thoughtfully. Her eyes reminded him of the little pools 
high up on the moorland among the myrtle and 
heather. He liked to look at her. But it was a pity she 
could not run, or climb in the trees. He would so have 
loved her to come with him high up, and rock in their 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 165 

lovely topmost branches and sing to the sky and the 
clouds and the dear stars and the big moon. And why 
were the creatures afraid of her? She was small and 
sweet and white, and surely she would never hurt any¬ 
thing—yet they were afraid of her. 

A shadow, not from the sky or the trees, dimmed the 
light of his beautiful world. He did not know what to 
do because he did not know what was wrong. Why 
were the creatures all afraid of her? Nothing had ever 
feared him. Trouble had come with this small exquisite 
person into the cheerful peace of his green world. Some¬ 
thing which hurt looked at him out of the face which 
was like some wonderful flower. It was new to him. 
He had never seen it before. He did not understand. 

Ishtar saw only a clear shining content in his beautiful 
strange face, and she felt angry with him. He looked 
so dreadfully happy when she was so miserable. And 
she had looked forward so to playing with him and the 
squirrels. Of course he thought she was a little 
stupid. . . . 

Copper Top saw the little soft fold of her underlip 
begin to quiver, and he felt at once that he liked her very 
much in spite of everything. He wanted to comfort her. 
It must be pretty nasty to have everything afraid of 
you. 

“Look here,” he said, “I’m sorry about the squirrels. 
Will a pigeon do?” 

Ishtar shook her head. “Joan has tame pigeons,” she 
complained. “It’s the wild creatures I want. The 
’quirrels or even a little tiny tiny wild rabbit. Ihe ones 
that run with little white tails.” 

Copper Top smiled and vanished. Ishtar had hardly 
time to be frightened or to wonder what Grannie might 
be thinking, before he was back again, holding between 


• 166 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


his hands a small ball of fur. A tiny rabbit, the tiniest 
Ishtar had ever seen. Yet it was quite grown up in 
its ways. It twitched its long ears and its funny little 
nose and sat up and nibbled delicately at a young dande¬ 
lion Copper Top had found for it. 

Ishtar was delighted. She loved it. 

“Oh, let me have it!” she cried, and held out eager 
hands. 

The rabbit jumped a clear three feet in the air over 
Copper Top’s shoulder and away, and Copper Top 
laughed. His laughter seemed to run with the rabbit 
along the sun-washed glade. 

Ishtar was torn in two. It was nasty of him to laugh, 
yet she wanted badly to laugh herself. She made an 
effort to be offended. She set her mouth firmly, but felt 
the corners twitch. Like the rabbit’s nose she thought, 
and a little chuckle of laughter bubbled over. 

“That’s right,” said Copper Top with a nod. “It’s no 
use being mis’rable. You’ve just got to find out how.” 

“But how can I find out?” she asked. 

Copper Top thought for a moment. 

“I think you had better come and live with us,” he 
said. “They’re not so ’fraid of ’Dophin as they used to 
be.” 

“Who is ’Dophin?” 

Copper Top stared. That anyone did not know who 
’Dophin was, was most odd. 

“We live together,” he said. 

“You mean my Cousin James,” said Ishtar. 

Copper Top nodded. “That’s one of his other names.” 

A whistle something like the call of a bird startled the 
air. “That’s him calling me,” Copper Top added. “He’s 
got someone with him. Someone making a noise. Shall 
we hide so’s they can’t get you back ?” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


167 


His eyes danced, so did his feet among the leaves. 
He wished she could climb. Of course they could hide 
down here. Only it would have been more fun to hide 
in a tree and watch the people hunting. His face danced 
with mischief. 

“Let’s hide!” he cried, and held out his hand. 

But Ishtar hesitated. There was a part of her that 
ached to go with him. Ached to plunge about and to 
shout and sing, and be at one with everything in that 
wild world of his. But there was another part that was 
afraid. Confusedly she struggled with the urgings of 
both. Then the disclipine of the most vital years of 
this life took command. Rules and regulations and time 
keeping and “you must” and “you must not” asserted 
their sway. 

“I can’t do that. It would be very naughty,” she said. 

The word rather puzzled Copper Top. There were 
things that were (right and things that were wrong. 
There was the Law. But “naughty” ? He did not under¬ 
stand. So he said, “Why?” 

Ishtar did not quite know why, but after a moment she 
thought of a reason. 

“It would frighten Grannie,” she said. * She was not 
quite sure that it would frighten Grannie, but she was 
quite sure that it would frighten her mother and Nana 
had they been there, and that they would be angry. 

“Who is ‘Grannie’?” asked Copper Top. 

“Daddy’s Mummy,” answered Ishtar. “Come and see 
her. I think you’ll like her,” she added coaxingly, “I do.” 

“Is she like you?” asked Copper Top. 

Ishtar bubbled over into laughter. 

“You are funny,” she said. “She’s quite, quite old. 
But p’raps”—.hopefully—“she was like me once.” 

During this conversation the Professor’s whistle had 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


168 

grown insistent and considerably nearer. He and 
Lady Condor had quarrelled violently over the Irish 
question of the moment, had made it up again, and Lady 
Condor was realising with some misgivings that Ishtar 
had disappeared. She had come with the Professor to 
search for the children. Mr. Fothersley remained seated 
under the pear tree. He frankly disliked rough walking, 
as he disliked picnics and meals out of doors and violent 
games and things of that order generally. 

“Dear Arthur is letting himself get old,” said Lady 
Condor as she set her dainty Paris-shod feet down 
bravely among the leaves and beech nuts on the rough 
forest track. They certainly looked incongruous enough 
there, as did her embroidered silken gown and her float¬ 
ing motor veil among the bushes. She always wore a 
motor veil when travelling in her bath chair, though from 
what connection of ideas no one knew. 

“I do hope nothing has happened to the child,” she 
said anxiously. 

“Good Heavens! Why should anything happen?” 
asked the Professor, leading the way and removing stray 
brambles and sticks from the path as he went. He was 
in his shirt sleeves, for the morning was hot and the 
visit had taken him by surprise. “You and the child 
come up to the woods. They are worth coming to. 
Look at them. But instead of enjoying them, first you 
attack me with ridiculous theories as to how to manage 
Ireland, and then you imagine something has happened 
to the child who has had the good sense to go and look for 
herself.” 

He whistled again, and this time there was an answer. 
A moment later the two children came within sight, walk¬ 
ing decorously hand in hand down the open glade in the 
sunshine. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


169 


“Good gracious!” exclaimed Lady Condor. She had 
her glasses on her nose to look for Ishtar so she could 
see distinctly. 

“Well!” said the Professor harshly. 

“He is . . Lady Condor paused. It was most 
remarkable, but words failed her. “He is like—I don’t 
know what he is like, dear James, and yet I do—but what¬ 
ever it is, he is a most beautiful child.” 

“Errmph!” grunted the Professor. There was a lump 
in his throat and the sunshine was all a-dazzle round the 
little slim figure and that dear bronze head. 

Copper Top had stopped and was staring at the 
wondrous apparition advancing upon him. It was not 
a rude stare, but it was comprehensive. The Professor 
tugged nervously at the collar of his tieless shirt. Even 
his beard looked anxious. The first impression on Lady 
Condor’s side was undoubtedly favourable. What would 
the boy’s be? It seemed a terribly long time before 
Copper Top suddenly advanced again with that effortless 
movement of his and pulled up just in front of Lady 
Condor. 

He saluted gravely. Then he shook hands with equal 
gravity. She had bunches of flowers all round her hat. 
Five different sorts, two that he did not know and three 
that he did. Her dress looked as if it were made of the 
same stuff as tulips. Her smile was like a rainbow. It 
had lots of colours in it and sunlight. 

“How do you do?” he said. “It is a pleasant day. I 
like how you look.” 

“You darling,” said Lady Condor. 

Undoubtedly they were friends at first sight. 

Lady Condor and Mr. Fothersley spoke French to 
each other nearly all the way home. Ishtar thought it 
was most mean of them. The visit she had looked 


170 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


forward to so much had not been altogether a success. 
Worse still, she felt that she herself had not been a suc¬ 
cess. There was an uncomfortable sinking feeling in her 
inside when she thought of her last glimpse of the boy 
seen round the corner of the bath chair as it bore her 
away. A glimpse of a flying figure disappearing into the 
green depths with birds about a bronze head. Birds . . . 
they were better than gold wings. . . . 

Grannie poured forth a veritable flood of curious 
sounds, out of which every now and then a word 
emerged which Ishtar recognised—“enfant” and “petit 
gar^on.” Uncle Arthur got in a few words sometimes 
which he seemed to produce by a mortal effort of a 
painful nature. He said more words that Ishtar knew 
than Grannie did. 

Presently he stopped Rob and turned right round. He 
was very pink in the face, and he and Grannie both 
talked at once. Grannie was waving both her hands. 
It made Ishtar feel better. There was always a gay 
feeling about when Grannie talked French and waved her 
hands. 

Then Uncle Arthur broke into English. 

“The boy is nothing more or less than a gipsy 
foundling, Marion,” he said. “I cannot conceive any¬ 
thing more undesirable than that you should take any 
action which will lead to his being looked upon as One of 
Us. James . . .” 

“Oh James ... !” began Lady Condor, her hands 
more than eloquent. 

Really, thought Ishtair, they were silly. She could 
have told them all the time. 

“Don’t worry, Uncle Arthur,” she said. “The boy’s 
just the same’s you or Daddy.” 

Lady Condor told Lord Condor all about it when she 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


171 

got home. She always did this when he was there to 
tell. Sometimes he listened and sometimes he did not, 
but he was always sympathetic. 

“There is no doubt that poor dear Arthur is allowing 
himself to grow old/’ she said. “His mind cannot adapt 
itself, you know. I don’t think he has ever got over 
the shock of being mistaken by the New Mayor—at that 
Meeting you know—for the new profiteer man who has 
taken Mentmore Court. I think it really was that the 
poor man—the Mayor I mean—was so nervous he was 
not quite responsible, for no one could possibly think 
Arthur that sort of person. But it was a great 
shock to him, I know—he kept referring to it, and I 
don’t think he has ever been quite the same since. I 
suppose as one grows older one does get a little peculiar. 
I hope I shall not, because . . 

“Good Heavens!” interrupted Lord Condor, who had 
been hurriedly examining all the coins in his pockets, “I 
believe I gave Temple’s groom a penny instead of half a 
crown.” 

Lady Condor went off into a fit of her delightful 
chuckles and tucked her arm through his. 

“At any rate, my dear, we shall grow peculiar together,” 
she said. “Let us go and look at those new Middle White 
Pigs.” 


CHAPTER IX 


“And now, dear James, at last we are alone!” 

Lady Condor rustled out of her drawing-room on to 
the noble terrace beneath the south wall of Mentmore 
Castle, settled herself into her own special chair in the 
sheltered corner, scattered various articles of apparel 
around her, and beamed. 

The Professor grunted. He was in a bad temper. A 
whole week had passed since Lady Condor’s visit to the 
Little House. When an urgent invitation had arrived 
asking him and the boy to lunch at the Castle he had 
certainly expected they would be the only guests. He 
had been prepared to have Lady Condor to himself, and 
listen to her considered opinion with regard to Copper 
Top’s further education. Instead of which he had found 
the place full of People. 

People! Marion knew that he detested them. 

Copper Top had been whisked away to the nursery 
regions. The boy had probably slipped off and gone 
home long ago. The Professor wished he was there 
himself. On the other hand Copper Top might- 

“Where is the boy, Marion?” he asked. “And what 
induced you to ask us when you had People?” 

“I didn’t,” answered Lady Condor, continuing to 
beam. “The Duke came to see Condor about reclaiming 
the waste land between the two estates. If they can’t 
reclaim they talk of a Public Golf Course, for People, you 


172 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


173 


know.” Her eyes twinkled. 4 ‘And of course he stayed to 
lunch. And the Dymchurchs came quite unexpectedly, 
they always do. I think she finds it helpful when he is in 
a bad temper. And they brought Poppy Flower-” 

“Brought who?” 

“She sat on your right hand at lunch and-” 

“The woman in beads, with a concertina on her head? 
Poppy Flower!” 

The Professor glared at Lady Condor under his eye¬ 
brows, and Lady Condor chuckled. 

“That is really her nom de plume, but she likes to be 
called by it. You must have heard of her books, James. 
She has written a great many. The last one was called 
‘The River of Blood.’ Why, I heard her telling you 
about it at lunch. She said it had just gone into the tenth 
edition. And you said, ‘Good God’!” 

“Did I?” asked the Professor guiltily. “Well, you 
must be thankful it was nothing worse, Marion.” 

“I was!” said Lady Condor. “And now let us talk 
about— What was it you came to talk about? Oh 
yes—the boy! Arthur and I nearly quarrelled about 
him on the way home. Poor dear Arthur!—he is 
getting very left behind—it makes him a little tiresome, 
you know. His mind still moves in the age when his 
grandfather asked the family doctor and the family 
solicitor to dinner once a year to meet each other. So 
dull, poor dears. There seemed no possibility then, of 
course, that they would ever be asked to meet anyone 
else. I make no pretence, like poor old Lady Dowdeswell, 
to be a Democrat, or is it a Socialist, or are they the same ? 
No one seems to know, do they? And how can you be 
a Democrat, or whatever it is, with a Rolls-Royce car 
and men-servants? But one has to recognise nowadays 
that even the solicitor’s clerk or the doctor’s drug boy 




174 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


may be a future Prime Minister. It is like the Field- 
Marshal’s baton in every knapsack, as Napoleon—or 
was it Wellington?—said.” 

“Umph!” grunted the Professor. “So Arthur does 
not think Copper Top a suitable companion for Ishtar.” 

“Well, dear James, perhaps it was a thing to consider, 
and you know dear Connie—but Ishtar settled the mat¬ 
ter.” 

“Ah,” murmured the Professor. 

“We got so heated in our argument that Arthur for¬ 
got we were speaking in French. Fortunately not at a 
critical moment—no! And you know Ishtar always 
waits till he does that, just like dear Ricky used to do. 
Then she said, ‘You needn’t worry, Uncle Arthur. The 
boy’s quite the same as you and Daddy.’ ” 

“Bless the child,” said the Professor. 

“I do wonder what his parentage is,” said Lady Con¬ 
dor thoughtfully. 

“I don’t see that it matters.” 

“Well, perhaps not. Indeed I am not sure that a little 
mystery is not rather attractive—so long as it remains 
a mystery. Still I do wonder if—but I promised never 
to mention that! The boy is undoubtedly gently born, I 
have no doubt of it, and that is the chief thing after all. 
But really, James, he cannot be allowed to grow up 
without mixing with his fellow-creatures. It is not fair 
on him. Something must be done!” 

“I quite agree with you,” said the Professor, and 
groaned. He thought of the female in beads. She had 
smelt of—what did she smell of? Some scent that re¬ 
minded him of church. When he was a small boy. 
“Well, Marion, what do you suggest?” 

“I have thought it all out’” replied Lady Condor 
briskly. “To-day—it did amuse me to see you so 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


US 


cross, James! And I had been working so hard really 
to think what was best. Indeed I dreamt last night that 
I was a butterfly, and Copper Top caught me and put me 
in a cage and fed me with nuts, and I was dreadfully 
distressed because I had nothing on, though why that 
should matter to a butterfly—but of course you did not 
know that. But where were we? Oh, yes. I have 
quite decided that the little man must begin by mixing 
more with ordinary human beings, and see something of 
the world as it is outside a wood. That is the first thing. 
Let us begin with that.” 

The Professor agreed humbly. 

“Nana’s rheumatism has been very troublesome lately,” 
Lady Condor went on with apparent irrelevance, scratch¬ 
ing her nose thoughtfully with her pince-nez. “I per¬ 
suaded her, or rather I persuaded Doctor Butterley, that 
she ought to go to Bath for a course of waters. She 
left yesterday. Yes. I hope to goodness she will not 
come back! She has grown so very like Li Plung Chang 
lately. You did not notice it? No. My private opinion 
is that dear Connie is afraid of her. It will be a relief. 
These old nurses, you know, can become terrible mar¬ 
tinets.” 

The Professor nodded with so much gravity that he 
might have been keenly interested in old nurses all his life. 

“But children are queer things,” Lady Condor went 
on. “Generous things, the little dears. I am certain 
that old woman made Ishtar’s life a burden to her, yet 
she cried bitterly yesterday afternoon when she left. 
To-day she is a different child. The under nurse, a little 
French girl, is looking after her, and will let her do 
exactly as she likes, except when it really matters, you 
know.” 

“Yes,” said the Professor patiently. He did not know 


176 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


what she was driving at, but he knew that she usually 
arrived somewhere. 

“Now I propose that Copper Top shall spend as much 
time down here as—well, as we can persuade him to,” 
concluded Lady Condor, arriving, as she often did, sud¬ 
denly. “Rose will keep an eye on them in case of acci¬ 
dents, otherwise they will do as they like. It will be 
good for both of them.” 

“It is very kind of you, Marion, very kind,” responded 
the Professor warmly. “It takes a great load off my 
•mind. When you know the boy better you will under¬ 
stand. At present he does not seem quite to belong to 
the human kingdom, and when I think of him caught up 
in the Machine as he’s bound to be-” 

Lady Condor’s shrewd eyes were very kindly as she 
looked at him. Little memories flitted across her face 
and made it sweet. 

“Ah, my dear, we all feel a bit like that about our 
babies. Parents—they get a lot of abuse—really, you 
know, from what I read nowadays, parents are the last 
people in the world who ought to have children! How¬ 
ever, no doubt Providence knows best. Providence, of 
course-” Lady Condor paused and looked at the Pro¬ 

fessor thoughtfully. “But I wonder now why Provi¬ 
dence dropped a stray baby in your path, James? The 
last person I should have selected myself. And yet it 
is quite wonderful how well you have brought the little 
man up.” 

“You really think so, Marion!” The Professor’s ex¬ 
pression was that of a dog receiving an unexpected bone. 

“I do,” said Lady Condor. “It is most amazing! 
But then, dear James, you always are so very unexpected, 
aren’t you? That little life of the boy’s, among the birds 
and animals, is quite beautiful, and he is beautiful too, 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


177 


and so clean. I did not quite expect that—although of 
course there is Kate. But in any case one would have 
expected something more like Tarzan of the Apes— 
Condor will call him Tarzan, by the way! I do hope you 
won’t mind. He is always so charmed with himself 
when he finds an appropriate nickname for anyone that 
I cannot stop him. But where were we? Oh—yes! 
Dear Connie insists on some lessons, though my feeling 
is that Ishtar would be better without them. However, 
there it is! Mademoiselle Buisson—you remember she 
was our French governess, and we have given her a little 
cottage in the village—she will teach them for two hours 
every morning, and I will take Copper Top into Fair- 
bridge and show him the shops and things, and we will 
motor into Brighton or Eastbourne and show him the 
sea, and—really, James, I am quite looking forward to 
it!” 

“It is very good of you, Marion,” repeated the Pro 1 - 
fessor. “I leave everything to you and Ishtar.” 

Whether Copper Top was prepared to be left in their 
hands was, he knew, another matter. However, the 
boy had agreed quite willingly to the present expedition, 
and apparently so far nothing disastrous had occurred. 
Of course he might have run away home long ago. 

The Professor smoked one of Lord Condor’s excellent 
cigars and listened to Lady Condor’s chatter and re¬ 
strained with difficulty his desire to propose a search 
for the children. He was getting a perfect old fool over 
the boy! Still, there would be no harm in- 

But at this moment Lord Condor joined them and 
proposed a visit to the stables. 

Copper Top was getting on, on the whole, remarkably 
well. Certainly he had had some anxious moments when 
Ishtar had first taken him in charge and led him across 



178 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

the big, rather dark hall. Indeed, his feelings were akin 
to those with which Ishtar had made her way through 
the deep shadows of the wood. She recognised this, and 
felt a little glad. It seemed to bring the boy nearer to her. 

He walked down the centre of the hall with dainty 
steps, his nostrils dilated, his eyes widely open. He 
glanced warily from side to side. There were strange 
things that looked like the shells of men, weirdly menac¬ 
ing. Pallid faces stared at him out of dark pictures. 
They had curiously shaped bodies attached to them. It 
was an ugly place, he thought. Even the shadows were 
not nice shadows; and there was such a curious smell. 
Then, suddenly, there glimmered on him a vision of 
dead babies covered with blood; of women’s faces mad 
with anguish. 

Copper Top fled. 

An open door at the end of a long passage showed 
the flicker of green leaves in the sunshine, and he made 
for it like a homing pigeon. Beyond the door he found 
himself on a gravel pathway which led to more gravel 
pathways, primly straight across smooth green turf, and 
there were lots of queer-shaped dark green trees like 
no other trees he had ever seen. 

He confronted Ishtar, who had followed him with a 
rapidity only second to his own. “Why do you have pic¬ 
tures of men killing things—killing babies?” he de¬ 
manded. 

“It is a very wonderful picture, hundreds of years 
old, about a story in the Bible,” answered Ishtar, on 
the defensive. Then she added suddenly, “I hate it, too!” 

“And why do you cut your trees into ugly shapes?” 
Copper Top went on. “They don’t like it.” 

Ishtar stared at him. She knew trees cut like that were 
ever so valuable and wonderful. People who came to the 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


179 


Castle always wanted to see them, and exclaimed at their 
beauty. They were “exquisite specimens” of some queer 
long word. She could not remember it. 

She looked at them. “I don’t think they are very 
pretty,” she confessed, “but I know they are ‘exquisite 
specimens.’ Very exquisite,” she added, seeing that 
Copper Top was not impressed. 

“Let us go back to the forest,” he said. 

Ishtar’s face fell. Her under-lip gave the little quiver 
which hurt him inside. 

“But you’ve come to spend the day with me and it’s 
time for dinner, and I want to show you my toys and 
Robert and the gold fish. And we can get to the school¬ 
room without going into the house again.” 

She caught hold of Copper Top’s hand and he yielded. 
He could not bear to see her lip quiver. And he had 
never seen any gold fish. He would like to see them. 
Also he caught sight of Robert. 

Robert was a brilliantly beautiful Macaw standing on a 
perch in the flood of sunshine outside the school-room 
window, and he and Copper Top literally flew into each 
other’s arms. At the full length of his chain the great 
bird spread his wings around and over the boy’s head. 
He bent his crest down and laid his fierce beak against 
the boy’s cheek, clucking and chuckling. He said the 
one word he knew, his own name, over and over again in 
every possible intonation. 

Copper Top danced with delight. He ran round the 
stand, dodging the great wings and fierce beak, laugh¬ 
ing, laughing, until the air rang. He took Robert into 
his small arms and stroked his blue and yellow feathers 
while they talked together in bird joy-sounds. They 
were delighted with each other. 

Ishtar watched them, swung between fear and interest. 


i8o 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


She was afraid of Robert. Everyone was afraid of him, 
except Grannie. 

“Stroke him/’ commanded Copper Top. “He won’t 
hurt you.” 

And, greatly daring, Ishtar stroked him. His feathers 
felt good to her touch. It was the bravest thing she had 
ever done in her life. Robert had such a wicked eye, 
and his beak always reminded her of the curved swords 
in the Ali Baba pictures. 

The little French maid appeared in the long window 
and said that dinner was ready. 

“I stroked him, Rose! I stroked him my very own 
self!” Ishtar cried to her triumphantly, while Robert 
flapped his wings proudly and called after them in every 
dulcet wheedling note that had ever been addressed to 
him by terrified mortals. 

At dinner Copper Top tried to remember everything 
the Professor had impressed upon him as they walked 
down to the Castle with regard to behaviour at meals 
when ladies were present. He stood beside his chair 
until Ishtar was seated. This pleased Ishtar. She dis¬ 
liked children who hurried into their seats and fixed their 
eyes on the food they liked best. Also it made her feel 
very grown up. But after that Copper Top forgot to 
remember. There was a thing called Shepherd’s Pie for 
dinner, and he refused it, stating frankly that it had a 
nasty smell, and he carried his pudding out to share with 
Robert without even asking if he might get down. 
Ishtar was very glad that Nana was not there. She 
would have thought him a rude little boy and a bad ex¬ 
ample. And he never said his grace. 

There was no coaxing him back into the school-room 
to look at the toys, and he was not interested in Croquet. 

“Why should I want to hit the ball through the hoop?” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 181 

he asked. “And why should I want to do it better than 
you?” 

Ishtar did not know, so she took him to feed the gold 
fish. 

The garden was deliciously hot, and sweet with the 
scent of thousands of sun-steeped flowers. There were 
many Copper Top had never seen before. He flitted 
from one to another, singing with joy. He used no 
adjectives, he just sang. A great bed of heliotrope, 
gorgeously purple, an ecstasy of scent, had a whole song 
to itself. The butterflies came and fluttered round his 
shining head. They settled on him as though he, too, 
were a flower. When Ishtar stole close to him they 
settled on her. She saw their eyes, their long whiskers, 
their tiny tiny mouths, and the gold sheen on their 
wings. She was “heavenly happy.” Her dream of the 
boy was really coming true. And the butterflies were 
not afraid of her; at least not when he was there. 

Copper Top loved the gold fish, and the lily pond with 
the straight gleaming stone edges where they lived. Be¬ 
fore the mingled glory of white water-lilies and the red- 
gold sheen of the darting fish he knelt in rapture, even 
song-silent. He longed to slip into the pond and swim 
in and out among the lovely lily stems in the clear cool 
water. He had promised the Professor not to take off 
his clothes, and a promise between them was a solemn 
undertaking, rarely exacted, and not to be lightly dis¬ 
regarded, but- 

“Do you swim in here?” he asked. 

Ishtar looked at him with rather horrified eyes. “Oh, 
no! One couldn’t! And it is full of fish!” 

Copper Top sighed. It would be most good. People 
were funny! But it was no use saying anything, so he 
only lay flat on his stomach with his face over the edge 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


182 

of the pond, and held inviting hands out to the fish who 
came switching their shining tails and thrusting eager 
noses up to the surface. Ishtar lay beside him and 
watched him slip tempting fingers under the water for 
the fish to bite. She did not want to do that too, she did 
not think she would like the feel of fish, but .she loved 
their wonderful colours, and the lily pond was somehow 
different to-day. It gave her a new feeling. And the 
lilies were so wonderfully white, and their insides like 
golden crowns. 

“Do you think p’raps we’ve got gold crowns in our 
insides?” she asked. “Insides have such funny feels 
sometimes.” 

“It’s when you shut things up in them, I ’spect,” said 
Copper Top. “You’re always shutting things up, aren’t 
you? You like it.” 

Ishtar considered. “You have to, don’t you. Would 
you like to see the glass houses?” 

They did not sound to Copper Top so attractive as 
gold fish. He rather mistrusted houses. But perhaps 
glass houses were different, were what houses ought to 
be. This place had very interesting things in it, and 
perhaps- 

His thought stopped suddenly. They had turned 
round a corner in the garden where the path ran along 
the top of a wall, a brick wall that dropped six feet to 
close-cropped meadows sweet with growing grass. And 
in the meadows were horses! Horses! 

Copper Top gazed for a moment. Sheer ecstasy 
flashed in his eyes. They were bluer than anything Ishtar 
had ever seen. He shouted. It was like a chime of 
bells. Then he sprang clear into the air, landed light 
as a blown feather on the grass, and away till he van¬ 
ished among moving manes and tails and hoofs. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


183 


Ishtar screamed to him to come back. These were the 
young horses, unbroken, dangerous. She had been strictly 
forbidden to go into that field. She called and called, 
helplessly. What were they doing to Copper Top? 
What were they doing? She made her way back to the 
house, moving blindly with outstretched hands. “Gran¬ 
nie!” she screamed. “Grannie!” and continued to 
scream. 

Lady Condor was having a delightful nap in the shaded 
heat of the terrace. She woke with a start, conscious 
that someone was calling. Yes! Someone calling her 
—Grannie—someone screaming—someone afraid- 

In her agitation, when this was fully borne in upon her, 
she actually gathered up all the impedimenta that, as 
usual, filled her lap. Clutching various things in both 
hands she hurried, as quickly as her bulk and her high 
heels would permit, in the direction of the screams. 
Anyone who looked more helpless to cope with an 
emergency it was impossible to imagine, but Lady 
Condor’s appearance was a thing not to be reckoned 
upon. In spite of all her paraphernalia she travelled with 
such speed, collecting a stray gardener on her way, that 
she reached the corner round which lay the sunken wall 
at the same moment as Ishtar. 

She clasped the little figure in her arms, dropping 
around it in a shower all the various articles to which 
she had so far clung firmly, and gasped. “Never 
mind, darling! What is it? It’s quite all right. What 
is it?” 

The gardener stood in the background and respectfully 
scratched his head. 

“It’s Copper Top!” sobbed Ishtar, bursting into 
tears. “He’s all among the horses! I—I think they’re 
k-killing him.” 



184 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


At this moment, mysteriously sprung from nowhere 
so it seemed, Lord Condor and the Professor appeared 
upon the scene. The former was, in spite of his size, a 
man of action. When he realised the situation he pulled 
up a stake from an adjacent delphinium bed, gave a brief 
order to the gardener to do the same, and let himself 
carefully but swiftly down the wall into the meadow. 
The Professor followed. He assured himself that no 
animal was likely to hurt Copper Top. It was not 

reasonably possible! And yet- He looked at the 

toss of manes and tails, the swiftly moving hoofs, and 
his inside felt unpleasantly hollow. Had they trampled 
the boy to bits—savaged him- 

Lady Condor continued to scream injunctions after 
them while in the same breath she did not cease to assure 
Ishtar that it was quite all right. 

Then, when the situation was at its height, a small 
figure sprang above the medley of jostling horses. One 
of them broke away from the others and raced across the 
field. On its back, erect,,singing, sat Copper Top. 

He held a strand of the horse’s mane twisted round his 
right hand, he swayed to its lithe movement, he bent 
forward and seemed to whisper in the beast’s ear. It was 
evident that he had complete command over the flying 
creature. As one they leaped the hedge into the Park and 
disappeared. 

The Professor mopped his forehead and gave thanks. 
Lord Condor looked at the Professor. 

“Well I’m jiggered!” he exclaimed. 

“That boy will be the death of me,” gasped Lady 
Condor, and sat down heavily on an iron garden seat 
that was accommodatingly at hand. 

Ishtar stared after the flying horse with the tears still 
wet on her cheeks. The boy could ride! Ride better 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 185 

even than Grandpa or Daddy or—or anybody she 
knew. 

Copper Top was thinking of none of them. He 
shouted and sang while he swayed to every movement of 
the living swiftness that carried him. He was divinely 
happy. This fleet passage through the sweetness of cleft 
air, it was something at least of what he had dreamed 
among the tree-tops. Something of that rapid ease of 
movement which he knew had once been his. The rise 
and fall, the sway and urge, filled him with wild rapture. 
And the living thing that shared it, how he loved her! 
He stooped and nuzzled her outstretched satin-smooth 
neck, he whispered love words into her delicate pointed 
ear. They swept as one over the soft sweet turf. They 
leaped as one over hedge and ditch, leaving the earth far 
below their flying feet. And as they swept and soared he 
smelt and tasted the grass and the sunlight as never be¬ 
fore. It was all one. 

The little mare slackened her pace under his caresses 
and turned her beautiful head round. She nuzzled 
against Copper Top’s bare knee, and her lips were of a 
softness far surpassing velvet. Her eyes were soft too, 
soft and brilliant at the same time. Something made 
Copper Top think of Ishtar. 

Would she come too? There were more horses. He 
knew, now he thought about it, that she would love to 
come. Her fair little face would be looking sad because 
she was left behind. 

He turned his new friend round, and they went back to 
the little group still on the path above the wall. Unsus¬ 
tained by the faith both the Professor and Ishtar had in 
Copper Top, Lord and Lady Condor were still suffering 
from fairly acute anxiety. The filly was unbroken. 
High-spirited and unmanageable even in skilled hands. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


186 

No doubt the boy was extraordinary with animals—still, 
anything might happen. And when he came cantering 
back safe and sound they were mightily relieved. 

“A born horseman,” murmured Lord Condor, and the 
Professor smiled. He knew Copper Top was secure of 
a place in the affections of the great Condor Family, 
horsemen and horse-lovers to the backbone. He remem¬ 
bered a story of Lord Condor’s youth when a heart¬ 
rending description of the drowning Egyptians in the 
Red Sea had drawn from him the question, “Were the 
horses drowned too?” and the comment, “Then I think 
it was beastly of God.” 

Copper Top pulled the little mare up below the wall 
with a workmanlike turn of his small knee. He looked 
at Lord Condor. 

“What is her name ?” he asked. 

“Well, we haven’t given her one yet,” answered Lord 
Condor, now hugely amused. “She is the Emerald 
Filly. Find her a name, Tarzan.” 

Copper Top looked him between the eyes. They were 
friends. 

“She is Cloud of the Air, and she is Running Water,” 
he said. 

“Running Water is good enough,” said Lord Condor, 
nodding gravely. “Who taught you to ride, Tarzan?” 

Copper Top looked puzzled. “Can’t everybody?” he 
asked. “And my name is not Tarzan, but you may call 
me by it if you like.” 

The other horses came running up. They jostled 
round Copper Top and Running Water, biting and 
whinnying. He turned to Ishtar. 

‘•‘Will you come too?” he asked. “There are plenty 
to ride.” 

For a brief second Ishtar longed and feared. She de- 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


187 


sired, and shrank from her desire. She was a plucky 
little rider on her own pony, she went to the Meets, she 
loved riding. And to ride at full speed like that with 
Copper Top—over everything—in the teeth of the wind 
—wildly—madly—to the thud of flying hoofs. Oh, it 
would be wonderful! She would be brave—she would 

gC> ~ ( - 

“Certainly not, children!” cried Lady Condor. “Cop¬ 
per Top, you have nearly frightened me to death, and I 
have torn my frock and broken my glasses and called 
somebody a Fool, but I don’t know who, so I cannot 
apologise, and I am like the Queen who had no strength 
left in her. Let us go in and get some tea.” 

Copper Top looked at the Professor despairingly. 
These other People—they were always afraid of some¬ 
thing. And he had been so happy. He did not under¬ 
stand. 

“I’m sorry, and I ’pologise,” he said. “And I would 
like to go home to tea.” 

“Well, old chap,” said the Professor that evening, as 
they sat eating porridge and cream for supper under the 
oak tree, “what do you think of the Outside World now 
you’ve had a peep at it ?” 

Copper Top did not answer immediately, but the Pro¬ 
fessor was used to that, and waited. The boy looked at 
him with his head on one side, his lips parted, his eyes 
thoughtful. The expressions Outside and Inside always 
puzzled him a little. He loved Lady Condor, and he liked 
Lord Condor. His soft thick voice was good, it had a 
satisfying sound. He had seen some beautiful things. 
But Ishtar and Running Water ought to live in the forest. 

He sighed a long sigh. “Why do they make such a 
fuss about everything?” he asked. “They must be tired. 
I’m tired.” 



188 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. 
“It’s best up here. The horses would think so, too; 
they’d like the Uplands,” he added, and curled himself up 
on the grass and went to sleep. 

The Professor sat on smoking and thinking. On the 
whole the visit had been a success. The boy had not 
come across anything to upset him so much that he would 
not go to the Castle again, and he had made his first 
plunge into Society very creditably. That ride on an un¬ 
broken filly! The Professor chuckled. Condor’s face! 
It had been as good as a play. Oh, the boy would hold 
his own right enough. “Why do they make so much 
fuss about everything?” It was quite a shrewd comment. 
Just what would strike a sensible person who lived a 
reasonable life. 

He looked with kindly eyes, all fierceness gone from 
them, at the woodland world around him, and his heart 
went out to it. A light wind wandered over the garden 
and brought him the scent of the forest, and whispered 
softly among the oak leaves above his head. A missal 
thrush sang in the pear tree. He smiled contentedly, and 
finished his porridge and cream. Copper Top’s summary 
remained in his mind and conjured up a vision of the 
well-appointed lunch table at the Castle. The glass and 
silver, the many courses, the baked meats and rich 
sauces. The brocaded curtains and the stamped leather 
and gilded walls, from which looked down the massively 
framed portraits of dead and gone Condors. And, the 
very centre-piece of it all, as it were, Poppy Flower, 
literally smacking her lips in ecstatic appreciation of the 
larded sweetbread with bechamel sauce. A delectable 
dish to look at, and, the Professor had to own, a most 
delicate flavour, and so clean and dainty a name, why 
connect it with eating an integral part of the small woolly 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


189 


lamb who had tumbled about on its insecure legs among 
the spring daisies with its patient, delighted mother? 

But Copper Top would. Copper Top had a remark¬ 
able gift for getting to the real thing. It was awkward 
sometimes, very awkward! On the way home he had 
funked explaining the inwardness of that Shepherd’s Pie. 
A mercy that he happened to be a vegetarian. Why was 
he a vegetarian? Of course! The little wife had been 
one. Yes, of course. And he had found it suited him, 
his brain had become more lucid, had worked better, and 
he had never even thought of going back to the flesh 
diet. Now it would repulse him. But he must explain 
things to the boy. Certainly he must. He re-lit his pipe, 
which had gone out, and sat on smoking and evolving 
the best intentions. 

They are notoriously sleep-inducing efforts, and soon 
he was dozing peacefully, careless of investigating insects 
and of Wanky’s fixed and anxious gaze. The dogs had 
naturally not been taken to the lunch party, but they were 
wholly unaccustomed to be left behind. Little Wolf had 
long ago gone off defiantly and happily, if a little resent 
fully, by himself. He was not so very far removed from 
his original ancestors. With Wanky it was different. He 
waited, with the infinite patience of the highly evolved 
dog. Presently the Professor began to snore. His head 
had fallen to that angle at which it is impossible not to 
snore. Finally he snored with such violence that it woke 
him up with a snort and a grunt. 

He looked around him with mild bewilderment. He 
had been dreaming—yes—dreaming that he told Copper 
Top the fundamental inwardness of Shepherd’s Pie—told 
it against his will, compelled by one of those malign 
influences that fortunately are only able to exercise their 
power in dreams. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


190 

And Copper Top had looked at him with the face of an 
accusing angel and had said, “I think you are a horrible 
race with disgusting habits, and I shall go home.” And 
thereupon he had spread a pair of charming wings, made, 
so the Professor noted, out of Marion Condor’s blue 
scarf bordered with pansies, and had flown away, right 
away, until he was only a minute speck upon the far 
sky-line above the hills. 

The Professor looked hurriedly down. For a moment, 
while he blinked and shook his head, he felt quite 'relieved 
that the boy was still there, sound asleep. 

He re-lit his pipe for the second time, and while the 
soothing fumes curled round him he decided that he 
would not tell the boy anything. Far better let things 
dawn upon him gradually. They would be less of a 
shock. He would just give him a general idea that out 
in the world things were different—he must be prepared. 

Suddenly the boy sat up, wide awake upon the instant, 
and smiled at him. 

The Professor smiled back. “Old chap,” he said. “I 
want to talk to you. It’s important, so listen carefully.” 

Copper Top assumed the attitude of a small heathen 
god, and nodded. Wanky got up and sat close beside him. 
He panted with his tongue hanging out in an affectionate 
manner, and thumped‘with his tail on the ground. 

“I have arranged,” began the Professor, “for you to 
go down to the Castle every day for the present, to learn 
French and—and other things—with Ishtar. Lady Con¬ 
dor will take you to see interesting places. To the towns 
and the sea—and so on. The World is a very big place, 
old chap, full of all sorts of people and things. You 
will find a lot in it that you don’t like as well as a lot that 
you do. I don’t approve of a lot that goes on, and I 
dare say you won’t either. But one has to put up with 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


191 

it. Errmph! Yes. There are such a da—dreadful 
number of People in the world, and you can’t make them 
think. Think! Good Lord, you can’t make them see or 
hear or understand! It’s no good trying. I’ve tried. 
Don’t you try. It’s no good. They have the strength of 
numbers and inertia and the plausibility of greed and 
foolishness-” 

The Professor had forgotten the intention with which 
he started out, which was to impress Copper Top with 
the fact that everybody had a right to their opinion 
about things, and was off tilting against his own especial 
windmill. Only Little Wolf’s tumultuous and intimate 
return checked him. 

“Yes, ’Dophin,” said Copper Top, with his usual 
cheerful interest in the Professor’s invective. He was 
already quite prepared to find People committing all sorts 
of dreadful things, although those dreadful things only 
dwelt in his mind in the shape of strange words that he 
did not understand. Only that they meant something bad. 
He looked at the Professor over the ecstatically rejoicing 
little bundle of black fur in his arms. 

“Why haven’t we any horses, ’Dophin?” he asked. 

“Horses!” echoed the Professor. The question seemed 
irrelevant to the matter in hand, still, why hadn’t they 
any horses? He used to ride a lot at one time. Ride 
with Margot. It was rather wonderful riding, along the 
forest tracks. And with the boy- 

“I don’t know why we haven’t any horses, old chap,” 
he said. “It is an oversight. We must get one or 
two.” 

Copper Top had his own ways of saying “thank you.” 
On this occasion he went apparently quite mad. He and 
Little Wolf together. Just like two young puppies. 
Then he went up the oak tree and swung to and fro on 




192 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


a topmost branch, singing to the sky while Little Wolf 
panted below. 

His song came falling down through the still evening 
air like the song of a lark. The Professor, listening, 
smiled benignly, and re-lit his pipe for the third time. 

What he paid Lord Condor the next morning for the 
little mare, Running Water, out of Emerald Agnes, by 
that celebrated hunter, Centaur, was nobody’s business 
except his own. 


CHAPTER X 


The next morning Copper Top went off contentedly to 
the Castle. It was only by a great effort of self-control 
that the Professor refrained from going with him. He 
would have trusted him alone in the jungle or the desert 
with less misgivings than among human beings. Also he 
was becoming increasingly aware of what a heart-tearing 
business it was to thrust this lovely, unaccountable little 
life, which had dropped into his hands like a star from 
heaven, out into the world of men. But his conviction 
that it had got to be done remained unaltered. It had 
got to be done. 

He wandered restlessly about, invading the kitchen 
at intervals to gather comfort from Mistress Jones, who 
had her faith to sustain her; her faith in the mysterious 
Beings whom she spoke of with bated breath as They. 
The Professor had no gods to have faith in. As Mistress 
Jones put it to herself compassionately, “his intellect not 
allowing of it.” 

Copper Top in the meantime was, on the whole, en¬ 
joying himself. He liked the little old French 
Mademoiselle, she had a voice like the big soft crimson 
roses that hung over the porch of the Little House, and 
he liked the sound of her words though he did not know 
their meaning. He could copy their sound “a merveille” 
she told him. 

The children had lunch with Lord and Lady Condor, 


193 


194 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


who were alone that day, and at lunch Lord Condor 
explained to Copper Top the true inwardness of roast 
beef and veal cutlets. 

“Fancy him not knowing!” he said to Lady Condor, 
over the big maiden-hair fern which stood in the middle 
of the table in a silver bowl. 

Copper Top inquired into the matter much as he had 
done in the Professor’s dream; he was not, however, 
upset in the way the Professor had imagined. He knew 
that some animals eat others. It was a nasty habit. But 
he did not expect man to be in any respect superior to 
the animals. Quite the reverse. Therefore he did not 
express feelings either of anger or astonishment, and his 
final question was asked in all good faith. 

“Do you eat each other?” 

There seemed to him no reason whatever for Lord 
Condor’s collapse into a fit of laughter, but he had long 
ago learnt, even in his small experience, that People 
laughed when there was nothing to laugh at. 

“Not in England,” answered Lord Condor, when he 
had recovered. “I believe they do in some countries still. 
But it led to so much trouble that we gave it up some 
hundreds of years ago.” 

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” said Lady Condor. 
“The English were never cannibals, though they did 
paint themselves blue, and why blue I cannot think, it is 
such a cold colour, and no doubt they ate their meat raw, 
but not each other—no!” 

Copper Top thought the red pieces everyone was eat¬ 
ing looked very raw. He was glad when the plates were 
taken away; he did not like the smell. He longed to slip 
out over the window-sill like he did at home, but some¬ 
thing held him. He felt as if the whole thing was a set 
performance which must be worked out to the very end. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


195 


Copper Top did not know the word Ceremonial, but if 
he had he would undoubtedly have applied it to the lunch. 
There was a rhythm about it all. Tall figures in queer 
dress came and went, under the direction of one, per¬ 
forming certain offices. They handed things in turn to 
everyone at given moments. At intervals everything was 
changed as if a new rite were about to commence. Each 
thing they ate was placed on differently sized plates. 
Everything they drank was poured into different shaped 
glasses. Some of them were very beautiful, and Copper 
Top liked the way the sunshine shone through them when 
it got the chance. He noticed that the different shapes 
were used for different drinks. He asked why, but no 
one seemed to know. 

The last change of all was the most interesting. The 
figures took everything off the table very suddenly and 
only the lovely fern in the silver bowl came back; every¬ 
thing else was different. Instead of the flowers in glass 
vases there were dishes of fruit. Peaches and nectarines 
and grapes and raspberries. Copper Top loved them; 
they looked so beautiful. There was a shining glass bowl 
on everybody’s plate with water in it, and on the water a 
flower floated. Copper Top had a round yellow flower 
in his bowl. It had been cut off its stalk close to the head. 
Copper Top never picked flowers, but he knew that every¬ 
one else did, even ’Dophin and Kathleen. This flower 
had been very badly picked. It did not like it. 

There was no cloth on the table now, and Copper Top 
could see the reflection of his face in the polished sur¬ 
face, and the lovely grain of the wood. Of course it had 
been a tree once, full of sap and singing in the wind. 
Every spring it had put forth thousands of buds, every 
summer it had carried thousands of leaves, all going 
dipple dapple in the sunshine. 


196 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

He was recalled to the Castle dining-room by Lady 
Condor’s voice saying: 

“Say your grace, darlings, and then you can get 
down.” 

The figures who had conducted the Ceremony had all 
gone. Everybody bent their heads reverently, and 
Ishtar folded her hands and said, “For what we have 
received the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.” 

She slipped down from her chair directly she had 
finished. Evidently this was the end of the performance. 
It had lasted for one hour and twenty minutes. 

Copper Top looked at Lord Condor. “Do you do this 
every day?” he asked. 

“What—have lunch?” returned Lord Condor. “Well, 
yes! Haven’t you enjoyed it, Tarzan?” 

“Not very much, thank you,” said Copper Top. “May 
I go and see the horses?” 

The head figure entered again softly. He carried 
coffee on a tray. One of the attendant figures walked 
behind with another tray. This had glass bottles on it 
with green and gold and crimson liquids in them, and 
tiny fairy glasses. 

“We’ll go round the stables together when I’ve had my 
coffee, Tarzan,” answered Lord Condor. “I’d like to 
show you the horses myself.” 

“And Running Water?” 

“And Running Water.” Lord Condor nodded. “Go 
and feed the gold fish till I come. Ishtar knows where 
their cake is kept. Rum little beggar that,” he added as 
the children vanished. “Only shows the difference en¬ 
vironment makes!” 

Lady Condor roused herself out of deep thought, but 
waited until the door closed behind the servants before 
she spoke. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


197 


“If you come to think of it,” she said, “it is wonder¬ 
ful the amount of—of—well, you know—that is neces¬ 
sary to provide us with our meals, proper meals I mean 
of course. And yet what would one do without them? 
They are such a passe temps! Fancy having your Aunt 
Jane to stay without proper meals! There is positively 
nothing else to do with her on a wet day. I simply long 
for the sound of the gong. But I suppose if this 
scarcity of servants continues we shall have to do without 
them. Perhaps though they will last our time. But not 
dear Connie’s I do not think. No. And I fear she will 
dislike it very much, poor dear.” She paused on her way 
out of the room to stroke her husband’s head. “You 
would have made a lovely monk, dear, you have such a 
perfect natural tonsure! One of those big jolly ones— 
monks, I mean, not tonsures—the ones they always paint 
drinking out of large jugs, you know. Be sure and send 
the children in at ten minutes to three. I am taking them 
in the car to Fairbridge.” 

“Tarzan will be much happier with the horses.” 

“But this is part of his education! James wants him 
to see the world.” 

Lord Condor raised an eyebrow. 

“Fairbridge!” 

“Well, you know what I mean. The poor child has 
never seen a street or a shop or a railway station or a 
train!” 

Lady Condor billowed away on a note of exclamation. 
She was looking forward enormously to showing Copper 
Top all these things. The little fellow would be so de¬ 
lighted. 

But the start was not altogether a success. Copper 
Top looked at the car and listened to the noise made by 
the engine with suspicion. He was only enticed to get 


198 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


in by the assurance that it could run faster than a horse; 
also Ishtar, all in her best clothes to go out with Grannie, 
and looking like an apple blossom flower he thought, was 
already ensconced and distinctly superior. 

For the first mile he terrified Lady Condor by examin¬ 
ing, with a bird-like swiftness of movement that made 
it impossible always to seize and hold him, from various 
angles, as much of the car and its amazing power of 
movement as was possible for a passenger. Presently 
she realised that he had an equally bird-like perfection 
of poise and balance, and ceased to worry. 

Down the long steep hill into Fairbridge that forty 
horse-power Daimler was allowed to do its best. Ishtar 
clapped her hands. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” she cried. 

“It’s lovely for the car,” said Copper Top. “But it 
makes such a fuss about it. Just like People. So per¬ 
haps it doesn’t enjoy it.” 

“But the car can’t enjoy anyfin.” 

“Why can’t it? It’s the car that’s going quick.” 

“But so are we.” 

Copper Top shook his head. “It’s not the same thing 
as going yourself,” he said patiently. It was funny, 
even Ishtar did not understand things as they really were. 
“We went faster than this,” he added after a moment’s 
thought, “but we didn’t have to make a fuss to get 
along.” 

“Did you dream about it?” asked Ishtar. “I dream 
I’m flying sometimes. But I ’spose I have wings.” 

“We hadn’t wings. We could just go, any¬ 
where-” He stretched out his arms, and Lady Con¬ 

dor smiled indulgently. Children had such queer pretty 
fancies. 

“Do people live in all these houses?” asked Copper 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


199 


Top, looking about him with wide eyes. They were 
passing little cottages here and there, and now and then 
a farm house. He looked at them all with interest. 
Sometimes a man was working in the garden or a 
woman came out of the gate. There were children 
about. They looked different to Ishtar, and when they 
called out the words had a queer sound. They passed 
other motors, and carts drawn by big horses. Lots of 
things flashed by. There was no time to look at any¬ 
thing properly. Then there came lots of bigger houses, 
only not so big as the Castle, and then the houses were 
all in rows, and there were lots and lots of people, and 
motors and carts and horses, and dogs of all sorts, and he 
saw one cat but no birds, and everything looked dirty and 
untidy, and the whole place was making a noise. It had 
a sound of its own. Of course everything had. The 
sound of a town was a very disagreeable sound. 

The motor pulled up at a place where the roads went 
different ways and there were houses everywhere jostling 
each other. Lady Condor pointed out the places called 
shops, where they sold this and that, but Copper Top 
was staring at the people as they passed to and fro. Any¬ 
thing alive always interested him more than inanimate 
things. 

“Why do they all look cross, or as if they were sick 
or in a fuss?” he asked. 

A woman with a shrill voice, projecting teeth, and a 
black spotted thing over her face had just seized upon 
Lady Condor and Ishtar, and was talking very hard and 
fast to them, so he got no answer. He continued to 
stare at the passers-by. These were People, of course. 
They were funny. Here were two all hunched up. Lots 
of them looked hunched up. There seemed no idea about 
their clothes. They were just heavy ugly things that 


200 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


hung from them. He wondered why they wore such 
queer things on their heads, and why their feet were 
such a funny shape. They were crawling along very 
slowly and they looked cross. A man followed them 
with a large stomach and a purply red face. His mouth 
was moving as if he were eating, and he seemed very 
angry about something. Then there came two ladies. 
One of them reminded Copper Top of Robert. She had 
a big fierce nose and a very high bare-looking forehead, 
and a queer shaped thing on her head with a big feather 
sticking up just like Robert’s crest. She was saying, 
“My dear, the Working Classes of this country are rotten 
—rotten—that’s what they are!” She seemed very an¬ 
noyed about it. 

Two children passed, eating sweets; they were pretty 
children, and Copper Top smiled when he caught their 
eyes. But they looked away at once, and he felt as if he 
had done something wrong. 

Then a girl came talking to a boy. She looked as if 
she had been crying. She talked very fast. “Out you 
go,” said she, “out you go, you lazy, dirty, impertinent 
slut!” 

The high nasal wail passed away down the street, and 
Lady Condor’s cheerful voice said, “Now, darlings, we 
will walk up Joynson Street and buy some sweets at 
Ronceaux’s.” 

Her radiant presence was balm to Copper Top’s soul. 
He even permitted her to hold his hand. Joynson 
Street was just round the corner. He did not dislike 
it so much. It was a very broad street and there were 
shops only on one side with trees in front of them. On 
the other side there were gardens full of bright-coloured 
flowers. And there were not so many People. The 
sweet shop was nicer than the other shops too, and the 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


201 


sweets were good. Lady Condor told them to eat as 
many as they liked, and she bought several big boxes 
full of them, all arranged in neat rows. Everyone in 
the shop seemed pleased to see her, and there was a girl 
behind the counter with dark hair and a face like a pansy, 
who smiled at Copper Top over the sweets. She looked 
as if she were enjoying herself. She had a lovely secret 
hidden behind her eyes. Copper Top smiled back. 

“Where do you come from, dear ?” she said, quite low. 

“Out of the forest,” he told her, and she nodded as if 
that were a good thing. 

“Why do you live in a town?” he asked. 

“I’m not going to much longer,” she whispered. 
“I’m going to live by the sea.” And he knew that was 
part of the secret. 

“Em going to see the sea one day,” he whispered back. 

She was just like a rose-coloured pansy. 

“Now,” said Lady Condor, while the pansy girl handed 
the parcels to the chauffeur, “we will walk up to the top 
of the street, because these are the best shops. Do not 
stare at people too much, darling, because it is not polite.” 

Copper Top did his best, and speedily became transfixed 
before a big, black, dirty-looking building with a square, 
squat tower brooding over it. Out of the tower came 
at regular intervals a melancholy cracked sound. A lot 
of People, very queer shaped people Copper Top thought, 
with funny feet, were going in at the open doors. It 
looked quite black inside. Darkness Copper Top did not 
mind, it was never black, and it was full of the voices of 
the winds and the trees and the grasses. But he shrank 
from this. 

“Is it a prison?” he whispered. 

“No, dear,” said Lady Condor, almost shocked. “It 
is a Church.” 


202 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“A Church?” Copper Top was frankly puzzled. 

Had James never- “Yes, darling. Where you 

go to pray to-” Lady Condor stopped. It certainly 

was a very ugly old building, and terribly grimy, and the 

old ladies—poor dears- She caught sight of a large 

placard on the railings. “Of course!” she exclaimed. 
“It is a Conference of some sort that is going on. And 
that is Archdeacon Pinniger.” 

The Archdeacon came across the street with out¬ 
stretched hands. The boom of his welcome preceded him. 

“Dear Lady Condor, this is indeed a charming sur¬ 
prise. So you are really back again. And I need not ask 
how you are!” He encased one of her little tightly 
white-gloved hands in both his own and shook it up and 
down. “You look simply splendid.” 

They talked both at once after that, while the 
chauffeur picked up Lady Condor’s gold bag and a stray 
scarf. Presently the Archdeacon noticed the children, 
and, releasing Lady Condor, bowed over Ishtar’s small 
hand, extended with dignity and a determination not to 
be kissed. Then he looked at Copper Top. 

“Why, this is Professor Godolphin’s little protege, 
is it not?” he asked. “I have been meaning to call there, 
but time is one of my difficulties, you know.” He beamed 
expansively. “Still on my last visit”—he turned to beam 
on Copper Top—“I gathered the Catechism—ha-ha— 
was getting on satisfactorily.” 

Copper Top had not the faintest idea of what he 
meant, but he was deeply interested in the Archdeacon’s 
remarkable resemblance to a raven, about the figure, 
especially the back view, so he did not give the Professor 
away. 

The melancholy bell stopped clanging, the Archdeacon 
hurried away, and Lady Condor continued her progres- 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


203 


sion along Joynson Street, pointing out various objects 
which she thought would interest Copper Top. His 
mind, however, continued to occupy itself principally with 
the passers-by. People were the oddest things he had 
ever seen. Certainly he had not expected very much. 
But he had had no idea of how funny they were. If 
they had only been enjoying themselves they would have 
made him laugh. As it was they made him feel un¬ 
comfortable inside, all except the pansy girl, and a boy 
in shirt sleeves playing with a puppy. Their faces shone 
among the others. There was light behind them. 

“Why does everybody look cross or sick or all fussy ?” 
he asked once more. 

“Do they? I don’t know,” answered Lady Condor 
vaguely pulled up in an attempt to explain what a Town 
Hall was. “Don’t stop there, darling. Come past quick¬ 
ly, that is not a nice shop to look at.” 

Copper Top had stopped in front of a butcher’s shop 
hung with the usual gruesome array. His eyes were 
wide with apprehension, his face grew white under its 
golden tan, but he stood his ground and did not 
budge. 

Ishtar tugged at his sleeve. “Do come away,” she 
whispered. “It is horrid. I never look ” 

“It really ought not to be allowed, darlings,” explained 
Lady Condor. “Even the Town Council must see how 
very unsanitary it is, and what is the good of so much 
fuss over microbes and germs when we expose our food 
to the dust and dirt of the streets. It is quite enough to 
drive people to vegetarianism! But no one does anything. 
Now that, of course, is what a Town Hall is really for, 
to attend to things of that sort. I could not quite place 
it just now-” 

“They are cows’ and sheep’s bodies,” said Copper Top 



204 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


slowly, realisation in full beginning to dawn upon him. 
“Wiv their heads cut off and their skins gone-” 

He looked at Lady Condor. She was oddly incon¬ 
gruous in front of the butcher’s shop, clutching Copper 
Top with one hand and holding a scrap of a handkerchief 
to her nose with the other. Her many coloured raiment, 
her rose-decked hat, the fragrance of violets that came 
from her, her little dainty feet among the sawdust which 
had escaped from the floor of the shop on to the pave¬ 
ment, Copper Top felt the incongruity, though he could 
not have explained his feelings. 

“Come away at once,” she said in a voice of authority, 
moving her shuddering gaze from the bloody artery of a 
headless trunk. 

“Why do you make beautiful things into that?” asked 
Copper Top, slipping with ease from her grasp, but yield¬ 
ing to her evident desire to get away. “I wonder if they 
were brown cows, the sort I like to look at in the sun, 
standing in the long grass. Long grass feels good. And 
there was a thing that had been a lamb there. They 
come in the spring when the daisies come. Why do you 
turn them into-” 

“It’s for food, darling,” interrupted Lady Condor, hur¬ 
rying him along the pavement towards the car. “You 
see all these people must be fed—you understand that, 
don’t you? And you don’t call meat cow and sheep, 
you must call it beef and mutton—it makes a difference 

somehow—though why it should- Thank you, Kirby. 

Yes, we will go home now—and where are my glasses? 
I had them just now—in Ronceaux’s. Oh, you have them! 
That is all right then. Quick, dears, jump in!” 

Copper Top’s eyes were fixed on a string of cabs fur¬ 
ther along the road, by the railway station, and she felt 
she could bear no more at the moment. Fortunately 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


205 


Copper Top was feeling much the same. He jumped 
into the car with a feeling of escape. The whole of him 
cried out for the forest, for the Green World, for the 
Big and Little Winds. The Winds down here were sad 
like everything else. They were stained. 

He gave up the effort to understand. The car earned 
them swiftly. There was the stile that led to the little 
pathway. 

“May I get out here and walk home?” he asked, on 
tiptoe in an instant. “I do want dreadfully to stretch my 
two legs.” 

“Yes, darling, if you would rather,” said Lady Condor, 
pulling the check string. 

Ishtar longed to go with him. Now Copper Top had 
said it, her legs wanted stretching very badly too. But 
she settled herself back in her seat with a sigh. It was 
no good asking for the impossible. 

Copper Top did not stop to say good-bye, or thank you, 
though this had been impressed upon him by the Profes¬ 
sor. His Green World called, as surely it had never 
called before. The leaves beckoned, birds were singing. 
He was gone like another bird, swift and glancing, and 
in a moment he was a little quick shadow Hitting among 
the trees. 

The boy stopped in the same clearing where the Pro¬ 
fessor had stood on the day when he found Copper Top, 
and with something, a hundredfold intensified, of the 
same relief. 

There was a large and comely Mother Rabbit sitting 
up on her hind legs washing her face and twitching her 
long nose. She was most happy and satisfied. The birds 
came flying to his singing, the squirrels played above his 
head. There were two field mice making a nest. The 
insects hummed in the grasses about his feet. They were 


206 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


all most happy and satisfied. Copper Top sang and sang 
as he fled along the sun-washed glades, and flicked like 
a flash of sunshine in and out among the tall tree trunks. 
Wanky and Little Wolf and his pigeon met him on the 
upward path. King Edward was waiting at the meadow 
gate to poke a friendly nose under his arm. The Jersey 
cows were nibbling the sweet grass and flicking the flies 
away with their black silken tails. They were all most 
happy and satisfied. 

He stopped on his way and ran across the meadow to 
look into the cows’ gentle eyes and stroke their sides 
with his little fine fingers. ’Dophin would always take 
care of them. 

’Dophin! He would sing praises for ’Dophin! 

He popped his shining head into the study window, 
singing praises. 

The Professor was writing at his desk. His hair 
stuck up and stuck out. He clenched his left hand round 
his beard, distorting it to an acute angle. 

By midday his restlessness had become something to 
be dealt with firmly. “Something must be done,” he 
said. “I am becoming a perfect old woman over the 
boy. I will begin my new book.” 

So he had begun, and because he was a writer by 
nature as well as by profession, soon his theme gripped 
him. He neglected his lunch. The afternoon went by as 
no time at all. What was that noise—a pleasant noise ? 

He looked up and shaded his eyes with his hand, and 
blinked. The late afternoon sunshine was pouring in at 
the window. It circled a dear bronze head. God bless 
the boy. He was back. 

Copper Top slipped over the window-sill and danced 
round him and his table like a bit of the wind incarnate. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


207 


So swiftly he went, so lightly. And as he danced he 
sang. Then he stopped quite suddenly and looked gravely 
from under his wide brows at the Professor. 

“I sing praises for you, ’Dophin,” he said. “You are 
quite right every way.” 

The Professor did not know what he meant, but it 
seemed entirely satisfactory. They went out and had tea 
together in cheerful contentment under the oak tree. There 
were green figs for tea, and honey, and wild strawberries 
with cream. 

“The only thing that really worries me,” Lady Con¬ 
dor was saying at that moment to Lord Condor, after she 
had given him an account of the afternoon’s adventures, 
“the only thing that really worries me is that I fear 
James is bringing the boy up as—what is the word I 
want—not a Heathen, because of course they are black—* 
but the people without any religious belief whatever— 
although he was certainly anxious about whether he had 
ever been christened-” 

“James is a Heathen himself,” said Lord Condor, who 
had just discovered he was pouring the milk into the tea¬ 
pot under the mistaken impression that it was hot water. 
When he had got over the shock of the discovery, he 
added, “Quite a good one though.” 

“Agnostic!” exclaimed Lady Condor. “No, Atheist! 
That is the word I want. Not Heathen—Heathens, of 
course, are black-” 

“Heathens worship different gods to ourselves. They 
are not always black.” Lord Condor slipped the infor¬ 
mation in sideways as it were. “I am afraid, my dear, 
I have poured milk into the pot instead of water.” 

The expedition to Brighton was more successful. Lady 
Condor took the little French governess with them, partly 
out of kindness, partly for moral support in case of emer- 




208 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


gency. The children sat in front beside the chauffeur. 
By this time Lady Condor had realised that Copper Top 
was extraordinarily capable of taking care of himself, 
also that he had realised that Ishtar was not. Day by 
day their friendship had grown. Ishtar had almost 
entirely lost the listless air and little touch of priggish¬ 
ness that had worried Lady Condor. She sang about the 
place; she ran; she even, greatly daring, used the school¬ 
boy words she had heard her brothers use and told Cop¬ 
per Top what they meant. Lady Condor chuckled 
guiltily. Poor dear Connie! 

Copper Top was used to the car now, and a motor drive 
with him was to Ishtar an experience. She saw the 
swiftly moving world with new eyes. Every fresh un¬ 
folding of the landscape was an event. Everything was 
living and had its own purpose. Hill and valley and tree, 
each assumed an individuality not less interesting than 
that of the more animated creatures. One and all Copper 
Top greeted them as brothers. When she was with him 
the World—not people—the World became absorbing. 

She had been to Brighton many times before, through 
the woods, over the hills, down into Lewes. And many 
a time, beyond the old town, she had seen the great 
Downs that guard the sea rise mysterious in the sunshine, 
and thought just nothing about them at all. They were 
the Downs, and beyond was Brighton and the sea. To¬ 
day when they swept into view Copper Top’s voice 
stopped on a sudden note. He stood up in the car, 
held out his arms, and shouted. It was as if he called, 
“Greeting, Brothers!” 

It was a day for great events. The sun was shining 
gloriously. There was no wind at all. The soft hills 
curved and sank and soared up the vast blue horizon, full 
of warmth and silence and an immense happy peace. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


209 


“It would be most good to fly among them,” said 
Copper Top, and sighed. 

“If we only had my dream wings.” 

“You don’t want wings. Those are for birds. You 
just go where you want. It is something inside. I could 
once. We lived up there as well as down here—only 

there was no up and down-” He frowned. “I can't 

remember. Only it was most good.” 

“It must have been dreams.” 

“I dream it sometimes now, and I wake up and I am 
in this. But once it was all the time.” 

A turn in the road swept the Downs behind them, and 
suddenly and hideously in their place lay tier after tier 
of grey slate roofs. The car dipped down amongst them 
into narrow streets shut in by grimy little houses, one 
after the other on each side all exactly alike. Copper 
Top gave a queer little gasp as if he had been plunged 
into ice cold water. Out of that great cheerful sunbathed 
space—into this- 

“Why do People make such dreadful places, and who 
lives in them?” he asked. 

“What’s wrong with them, Master James?” asked the 
chauffeur. He and Copper Top had made friends over 
the inside of the car. “They’re tidy little homes for a 
man and his family.” 

“You—you wouldn’t dislike to live here, Kirby?” 

“No,” said Kirby. “One of these houses would suit 
me right enough. It depends what you’re used to. I 
used to live in Brighton when I was a boy. Plenty of 
life about, and the sea if you want it.” 

Copper Top looked round. Plenty of “life.” He 
didn’t understand. There was not a single thing grow¬ 
ing anywhere, and no birds. One or two stray cats and 
dogs, and he caught sight of a wasp on a window-pane. 




210 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


There were some People, but they never seemed very 
alive. The sunlight even was dull and tired. It had so 
little that was alive to shine on. 

Then, while he puzzled, someone said suddenly, “The 
sea!” and it flashed up, not only before his eyes, but into 
his conscious memory. He knew it. He loved it. It was 
part of the great Alive. He greeted it with a shout. 

“Hush!” whispered Ishtar. “Everyone will hear you.” 

People walking on the front had heard. They stared 
at the little erect figure standing up in the front of the 
car. It made them smile. People looked happy here, he 
thought. They were enjoying themselves. 

The car stopped and he turned to Lady Condor a little 
eager, flushed face. “May I go into the sea now?” he 
asked. “It will be most good to go into. Oh, there are 
birds too! Oh, look!” 

He was out of the car before she could answer, had 
crossed the Parade, and dropped six feet over the railing 
to the shingle below, like a flash of light. 

“Take off your suit first,” Lady Condor called after 
him, preparing to follow by the nearest steps. “He has 
some little bathing drawers underneath. I sent word to 
Kate,” she informed her companions. “And he can swim 
like a fish, I know, so we need not be anxious. We will 
go and watch him. Though the shingle is most dreadfully 
trying to one’s feet. There, he has left his suit just where 
it will get wet!” 

Copper Top fled, a little shining figure, straight into 
the dazzling surf, and as he fled he sang. The white 
horses came riding, the white sea birds came flying, to 
greet him. The great spaces of sea and sun took him 
to themselves. He lay among the sun flecks and felt 
beneath him the urge and sway of the water. The birds 
brooded around him, calling softly. He dived down, 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


211 


down into the life-giving freshness, and looking up saw 
its blue-green, translucent vesture. He came up shouting. 
It seemed he called to freedom and the great spaces. He 
swam away up the broad sun track out to the open sea. 
The birds followed him. 

“I suppose he is quite safe,” said Lady Condor, a little 
anxiously. She stood on the edge of the incoming tide 
holding her prince-nez on her nose with one hand and 
endeavouring to control her scarf and veil with the other. 
“Cousin James said he was like a fish in the water, didn’t 
he?” 

“I think it is a shame!” cried Ishtar, and burst into 
tears. 

“Darling! What is the matter?” 

“Why can’t I do that?” sobbed the child passionately. 
“Why can’t all of us? Why’s we brought up to be ’fraid 
of evvyfing, and why’s evvyfing ’fraid of us? I call it 
perfectly beastly, that’s what I call it.” 

She sat down and wept on the shingle, and Lady 
Condor’s scarf floated out to sea and she lost her glasses 
irrevocably among the stones while she vainly attempted 
to comfort her. 

“There, my little love, my darling. You shall learn 
to swim and then we will come again.” 

But Ishtar refused to be comforted. 

“It wouldn’t be any good. I’d be ’fraid. And you and 
Mummy and Nana, you’d all be ’fraid.” 

She sobbed inconsolably. 

Little Mademoiselle watched the tiny speck among the 
sea birds now far out to sea. She had spent her life, 
ever since she had been eighteen, teaching children to 
speak French and trying to live on the proceeds. She was 
now sixty-five. 

“Mais la petite a raison,” she murmured. 


CHAPTER XI 


Gradually, and without much notice being taken of it, 
the children began to spend more and more time in the 
forest and to be less and less at the Castle. Every 
morning Copper Top would come flying in with the sun 
in his eyes and the wind in his hair. He would patter 
French, which he had learnt with amazing rapidity, with 
Mademoiselle, would listen with rapt delight while she 
recited poetry in that rich and eloquent language, and 
read, alternately with Ishtar, extracts from “Les Mal- 
heurs de Sophie,” or from “Les Memoires d’un 
Ane.” Every day before he started he faithfully 
promised the Professor he would do all these things. 
After the lessons he ate cake and fruit in the garden, with 
Robert and a little crowd of humbler birds. Little Wolf 
preferred the “proper” dinner which Lady Condor had 
given particular orders should be “properly” served and 
eaten in the schoolroom. Ishtar obeyed all commands of 
Grannie’s with almost religious fervour. It was a sort 
of thank-offering for the many usually forbidden joys 
that now were hers. 

After dinner came the glorious moment when the 
groom brought round Ishtar’s pony, and the whole party 
started for the Little House. The pony was white and 
her name was Snowball, but everybody called her Jane, 
and she answered best to queer noises produced by the 
groom, which Ishtar endeavoured to imitate. 

They started with the utmost decorum, with the ex¬ 
ception of Little Wolf, who shrieked madly at Jane’s 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


213 


heels or in front of her nose, while Robert screamed after 
them from his perch in every variety of abusive sound. 

Once out of sight of the Castle windows affairs moved 
more rapidly. Jane trotted her very fastest, she knew she 
had to, until they were safely in the forest. Up to that 
moment anything might happen. A voice calling behind 
them—some devastating order from the Powers that 
ruled—shattering a whole world of promise, blotting out 
gay visions of delight. 

Copper Top and Little Wolf ran beside her, the one 
not more lightly or more easily than the other. Rose ran 
behind, panting but happy. She was only a girl. She 
loved these expeditions. Although she was a “French” 
maid, and had brought wonderful credentials from Paris 
to that effect, she came from Belgium. The forest re¬ 
minded her of her own great woods near Brussels. 
Shakespeare’s Forest, where Jaques was “melancholy for 
pleasure.” Rose felt like that too among the trees. She 
was still sad, but it was a pleasant sadness. The cool 
green shadows, the whispering leaves, the silver branches, 
they were none of them strangers. They spoke just the 
same language as her own did. They were all friends. 
She loved the Little House too, and Kathleen’s kitchen, 
and the wide hearth where they sat and knitted together 
and told each other stories of their fathers and 
mothers and the days when they had been children. 

So it came about that for one glorious month, when 
the work of earth, rain and sun was at its height, and 
the whole world ripened to harvest, Ishtar wandered 
free as a cloud day by day with the boy in the forest. 
Sometimes they rode together, sometimes they walked 
and ran and Running Water and Jane followed. Some¬ 
times they lay among the soft warm grasses or paddled 
in the little streams. Soon there was no lovely secret 


214 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


place in the whole forest that she did not know. The 
birds and squirrels and rabbits became less afraid of her. 
They would never let her touch them, but if she kept very 
very still the bolder ones would come to Copper Top 
while she was beside him. The deer made friends with 
her, and the pigeon. She was “heavenly happy.” The 
boy taught her to lie close to the Earth and hear its heart 
beating, to hold her ear against it and listen to the fairy 
looms weaving its glorious garments. He taught her to 
bury her face among the long rushes that grew in the 
marsh land and hear their whispering song. He showed 
her the homes of many of the creatures, he told her what 
they thought about, what they were saying to each other. 
All their little secrets, all their little joys and anxieties, 
Copper Top knew them all. Gradually she learnt to 
climb the trees, though never could she reach their won¬ 
drous tops. But she climbed high enough to hear some 
of the songs the winds sang in them. The trees and the 
streams, the winds and the clouds, assumed individuality. 
She found names for the woods which made Copper Top 
laugh, but she knew he liked them. Many young oak 
trees with their trunks covered with grey lichen made a 
Mystery Wood. Larch trees made a Wood of Golden 
Veils. Red-boled fir trees made a Praying Wood. And 
the big Beech Grove was the Wood of Whispers. The 
Pear Tree in the garden she called the Singing Tree 
because there was always a bird singing out of its heart. 
The world was a most wonderful place. All fairyland 
and full of fairies. The flowers were fairies, and the 
little gold midges in the sun, and the water-spray dancing, 
mazy-white; myriads of fairies. Sometimes Copper Top 
told her of things he saw that she could not see—beings. 
She thought he was just making up stories for fun then. 
Soon he did not talk of these any more. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


215 


Ishtar went home in time for bed, but she did not go 
to bed. She went up to Grannie’s room and told all her 
news and watched Grannie dress for dinner. This was 
a most interesting Ceremonial. Ishtar generally arrived 
about the moment when Grannie emerged from her bath¬ 
room radiant in floating draperies and.bringing with her 
all the scents of Araby. She generally lost one or both 
of her shoes as she came, because though they had roses 
on the toes they had nothing behind to keep the heels on. 
Ishtar loved to pick them up and put them on for her. 
Even Cinderella, she thought, could not have had prettier 
feet than Grannie. Then came the thrilling moment when 
the maid dropped some rainbow-hued frock over Gran¬ 
nie’s head. After that, while the frock was fastened up, 
Ishtar explored Grannie’s wonderful jewel cabinet, and 
handed her chains and bracelets. Sometimes Grannie al¬ 
lowed her to choose which she should wear. Sometimes 
the treat was to fasten them on. Then Grannie gave a 
final little pouf of the powder puff to the tip of her nose 
and the back of each hand and was really finished, and 
Ishtar gazed at her with devout admiration and said, 
“You look lovely, Grannie, dear!” And so she did. 

After that Ishtar was really sleepy and ready for bed. 
The moving dusk was slipping over everything. The star 
that looked in at the nursery window, from above the 
tallest tree, was getting very bright. There was an 
angel in the heart of every star, and when the angel sang 
the star shone. 

Then everything altered, quite suddenly, as it does. 
Mademoiselle went away for her holiday so the lessons 
stopped, and Ishtar’s father and mother and her two 
brothers came to the Castle on a visit, and a distant cousin, 
Don MacClean. 

Don MacClean was also the captain of the cricket 


2l6 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


eleven at John and Richard’s school, and therefore a very 
important person indeed, to be treated with a respect 
bordering on awe. Ishtar followed her brothers’ example. 
Also, apart from his god-like attributes as captain of the 
eleven, she liked Don MacClean. 

He was indeed the “fine fleur,” of everything she had 
been brought up to admire. He fulfilled the ideals of her 
race. Tall and well built, with the cheerful serenity that 
belongs to perfect physical health, he was entirely and 
commendably normal in his outlook on life and things 
in general, and already, at twelve years old a good rider 
to hounds and quite a fair shot. Without being clever 
he had the faculty of rising to the top of any difficult 
situation when necessary and staying there. Ishtar always 
had the comfortable feeling that she was quite safe when 
Don was about. Also, in spite of the halo which sur¬ 
rounded him, Don was to her a patient and willing slave. 
Yes, she liked him. She liked him quite as much as she 
liked Copper Top. Indeed he consoled her for the fact 
that with the arrival of her mother and the departure of 
Mademoiselle Copper Top’s daily morning visit to the 
Castle ceased and her afternoon visit to the forest with it. 

Don was always ready to have her for his partner at 
tennis against John and Richard, and to take her with 
them fishing or boating or riding. At first Lady Hawk- 
hurst had demurred, but Lord Hawkhurst had come to 
the rescue. “Let her go,’’ he said. “She will be all right 
with Don.” 

There was excellent pike and jack fishing to be had 
in the Castle ponds, and very fair fly fishing in the streams 
that flowed through them, if you were content with a 
quarter or half-pound trout. Sometimes Ishtar fished 
out of the punt with the boys. She loved the excitement 
when a fish was hooked and ran away with the line and 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


2I 7 


fought for his life, and finally, unless they were unlucky 
enough to lose him, came shining and twisting and twirl¬ 
ing out of the water. But she hated it when they took 
the hook out of his mouth, and looked the other way 
shuddering. Also she could never steel her heart to 
put the worm on her own hook. 

John and Richard laughed at her, quite kindly, for she 
was only a kid, and a girl at that. 

“Shut up,” Don would say, and put the wriggling 
worm on for her with his neat strong fingers. “Eve 
known plenty of men who didn’t like this job. A girl 
isn’t much good if she doesn’t mind hurting things.” 

Sometimes, when she got tired of fishing, Don would 
take her in the Canadian canoe and they would paddle 
about among the Water-lilies and the Bulrushes. Ishtar 
would pull the great beautiful flowers up and up by their 
long fat stalks until they broke and Don would cut the 
rushes for her with his knife. As often as not they 
forgot to take them home, but it was fun picking flowers. 

Sometimes he would paddle her a long way down the 
little stream. It was so narrow that Ishtar could pick off 
the tops of the soft white river grasses and the rose 
willow-herb blossoms as she passed, and drop them into 
the stream and watch them float. 

Copper Top did not like her picking flowers. It was 
silly of him really, because they were there to be picked. 
She asked Don, and he said of course they were. She 
told Don about Copper Top and a lot of the things Copper 
Top told her about the animals and birds, and Don was 
very interested indeed. Don knew a lot about birds too. 
He was making a collection of stuffed birds up in his own 
home in Scotland. 

“Wouldn’t you like better to have them all play with 
you alive?” Ishtar asked him. 


218 the joyous adventurer 

“Yes, but I can’t, you see, not like this chap can,” said 
Don. 

“I do wonder why they come to Copper Top,” sighed 
Ishtar. 

“So do I. I suppose he’s got some way with him, like 
some fellows have with bees, you know. I wouldn’t 
catch hold of that grass, Izzy, it might cut your 
fingers.” 

They were in the canoe on their way to the Mill, which 
was as far as you could go without carrying the canoe 
a little way over the road. Don had promised to carry 
it over one day and take her on the river beyond. Ishtar 
liked these expeditions best of them all. She liked the 
look of Don as he sat facing her at the other end of the 
canoe and paddled with strong, skilful strokes. She liked 
him with his coat off and his shirt sleeves rolled up and 
the sun shining on his sunburnt face and his smooth fair 
head. 

“I think you look like a backwoodsman,” she said, and 
she would lie happily watching him and weaving wonder¬ 
ful romances. Sometimes he had just rescued her from 
a tribe of Red Indians, and they were speeding to safety 
far, far away through the jungle. Or perhaps it was 
from a Magic Tower where she had been imprisoned for 
hundreds and hundreds of years by a cruel Ogre. But 
she did not tell Don of these stories which she made up. 
She did not quite know why. Don himself was not given 
to romance, but he undoubtedly derived considerable 
pleasure from Ishtar’s society, to the continual astonish¬ 
ment of her brothers. Ishtar was a very nice kid; they 
were, in their own way, devoted to her, but that Don 
MacClean should care to spend his time taking her out 
in a canoe puzzled them considerably. There were such 
a lot of things one would have thought he would have 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


219 


preferred, even if he were tired of fishing;. Ferreting 
rabbits and rat hunting. There were also two promising 
young fox-terriers to be instructed in cat chasing. They 
mourned together in secret, being far too loyal to com¬ 
ment on Don’s extraordinary behaviour to anyone else. 
An effort to suborn Ishtar, under an oath of secrecy, to 
pretend to an interest in manly pursuits, failed. 

“I do want to do what you ask me,” she wailed. “But 
the look of rats and ferrets makes me feel all sick inside, 
and I won’t see a cat killed.” 

Still she was not altogether devoid of the sporting 
spirit of her race; when the First of September came and 
the guns were starting directly after an early breakfast, 
she longed to go with them. Her mother and grand¬ 
mother would meet them for lunch later on. No doubt 
they would take her too. But Ishtar wanted to start off 
in the midst of the bustle and excitement of men and 
dogs while the mists still lay white on the low land and 
the dew-drops sparkled on every blade and twig. She 
wanted to walk beside Don, who looked ever so nice in 
his neat tweed suit and gaiters, with his cartridge bag 
slung by a strap across his back and his gun over his 
shoulder. Her brothers were both in close attendance 
on their father, carrying his cartridges with due import¬ 
ance, while Lord Condor’s thick soft voice could be heard 
at intervals, above the babble of voices and the yapping 
of eager dogs, saying: 

“Now don’t let us have anything going wrong on the 
First.” 

Lady Condor stood on the top of the steps framed in 
the great doorway. Her hat and veils were of their usual 
brilliance, but as a concession to the First she had ar¬ 
rayed herself in a tweed coat and skirt and carried an 
ebony and silver walking stick with which she emphasised 


220 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

the various instructions that she issued impartially to 
everybody. 

Motor-cars and dog-carts kept driving up and dis¬ 
charging men, dogs and guns and shooting paraphernalia 
of all sorts over the wide gravel sweep. 

Lady Condor held a reception of undoubted success in 
the portico. Lady Hawkhurst moved about holding 
Ishtar by the hand. She was pleasantly conscious of the 
perfect picture they made. 

“What a wonderful morning!” “But it will be very 
hot later on.” “We are joining you for lunch.” “No, 
Major Johnstone, I am sure the Irish Stew has not been 
forgotten!” “The birds will be a bit wild.” “Very 
forward, of course. Such a fine season.” “Plenty of 
’em though, that’s the great thing.” 

Ishtar shook hands politely with all the men who came 
up to speak to her mother. They discussed her height, 
age, personal appearance, and resemblance to some one of 
her relations. Grown up People always did that. It was 
one of their odious ways of making themselves pleasant. 

A girl who looked about two years older than Ishtar 
had arrived in one of the cars. She had curly red hair 
and blue eyes with white eyelashes, and thick legs and 
very grown up manners. She seemed to know Don 
quite well, and announced her intention of walking with 
him and carrying his cartridges. Ishtar hated her. She 
was glad when he refused to part with his cartridges, 
and that before they started he came across the drive and 
said in a little lordly way he had sometimes: 

“I’m glad you’re not coming, Izzy. A day like this I 
couldn’t look after you very well.” 

It did not console Ishtar in the least for not going. 
But it certainly consoled her for the lively presence of 
the red-haired girl. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


221 


‘‘Do you want to come?” asked Don. 

Ishtar nodded, with that little quiver of her under-lip. 
“I’d just love to.” 

Don looked doubtful. “It’s jolly heavy going, you 
know, and it will be hot later.” 

‘‘I wouldn’t mind a bit. But it’s no good. Mummy 
won’t let me.” 

“Well, I think she’s right, you know. IT 1 take you 
out on an off-day,” said Don comfortingly, and still in 
that little lordly way. Ishtar was not at all sure that she 
liked it. 

“No, thank you very much, Don, I don’t think I should 
care about that.” 

Ishtar was always polite even when she snubbed any¬ 
body. She left Don not quite sure whether he had been 
snubbed or not, and walked with a very dignified small 
back up the steps to join her grandmother. She did not 
fail to notice, however, that the red-haired girl walked 
with one of the men, and Don went his way alone. 

It would not be correct to say that the possibility of 
having incurred Ishtar’s displeasure spoilt Don Mac- 
Clean’s day in any way. Nothing could have done that 
short of missing every bird, and his bag that evening was 
by no means the smallest. Also he was the only gun 
who had secured a woodcock. Lord Hawkhurst con¬ 
gratulated him, and said he thought it was time that John 
had a gun, whereat John relapsed into a state of ecstasy 
bordering on delirium. 

All the same Don was very glad to find an eager and 
smiling Ishtar waiting to greet him when they got back. 
Perhaps she had not really been vexed. 

The ladies all came out and looked at the birds laid 
out in rows in the big courtyard, and Don showed Ishtar 
his woodcock with its queer long beak and pretty feathers, 


222 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


and he wanted to give her the special little feather from 
under the wing to wear in her hat. But Ishtar insisted 
that he must wear it himself like Grandpa and Daddy did. 

Don was rather glad she insisted. It had been a bit of 
a wrench to part with that feather. Ishtar watched him 
fasten it into his cap with his capable, square-tipped 
fingers. They smelt of grease and gunpowder. A little 
bloody tuft of feathers had caught in the rough tweed of 
his coat sleeve. He. picked it off and flecked it on to the 
ground among the dead little bodies. Without warning, 
suddenly, a wave of disgust, of sick horror, swept over 
her. An awful, empty, horrible feeling. She wanted to 
cry. 

That night in bed she did cry. She buried her face in 
the pillow and did not dare to look at the star above the 
top of the tallest tree. She thought of Copper Top and 
of the birds flying round his head in the sunshine, of 
Don with his gun and the little bloody tuft of feathers 
on his sleeve, and of the rows of little dead birds. 

Yet of course men shot birds! It was a quite right 
thing to do. A man ought to be a good shot. That is 
what some birds are there for, to shoot and eat. Copper 
Top did not understand that perhaps. 

But somehow she wished she had been with Copper 
Top all these days. Then she thought of Don sitting at 
the end of the canoe—the light on his sunburnt face and 
fair hair—of course men killed things—things had to 
be killed. That was why men were strong—so’s they did 
not mind. And Don did love animals. He was even 
good to cats. John and Richard hunted them. The 
angel in the star ? The angel in the star would know. 

She opened her eyes and found the sun streaming in 
at the open window. The birds outside were singing in 
gay and cheerful chorus. The trouble of last night had 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


223 


vanished with its mists. She did not even remember it. 
It might come creeping up again at bedtime, one never 
knew, but now it was gone. The wisteria garlands round 
the window danced in the golden light. The long ten¬ 
drils beckoned. The forest called to her. She wanted 
Copper Top. 

There was no shooting party that day. Lord Hawk- 
hurst was beating round some outlying field and hedges 
with the three boys. To Don’s relief Ishtar expressed 
no desire to go with them. His instinct was against 
having girls about on these occasions. But he was very 
conscious of the blank on his return, when no dainty 
figure was there to greet him and be interested in the 
Blue Jay that he had shot for her. The wings were ever 
so pretty and would look well in a hat he thought. 

The shooters had tea in the school-room, and Lady 
Condor came and poured out for them. She was in her 
element. It reminded her of the days when her boys had 
been young and Mummy to tea was a special treat. Nor 
did she fail Don. Her dear shrewd eyes had noticed 
the little romance with sympathy as well as amusement. 
It is never too early or too late for a woman to begin 
match-making. And what better match could there be 
for Ishtar than Don MacClean? 

“Ishtar has gone up to spend the afternoon at Cousin 
James’,” she said. “He has adopted a little boy, you 
know. Quite a dear. I think you boys would like him. 
Though I really believe he can never have played with 
another boy in his life—and I cannot imagine your Cousin 
James playing. Darling! I believe you must have put 
some sugar in the milk jug, or is it the teapot? My tea 
is quite sweet-” 

After Lord Condor had denied the possibility of such 
a thing, and finally, to the huge delight of the boys and 



224 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


his wife, been convicted by sampling the milk, conver¬ 
sation was resumed. 

“Father asked me to go and see Mr. Godolphin one 
day before I leave, Aunt Marion,” said Don. The Con¬ 
dors and MacCleans owned a very distant cousinship, and 
she had been “Aunt Marion” to him from his babyhood. 
“I might go up now and I could bring Izzy back with 
me.” 

Lady Condor nodded. “Quite a good idea,” she said, 
“and then you will have got the visit off your mind. 
Your father and James were at Cambridge together I 
think—or was it Oxford—I always mix the two up—but 
anyway they were there together. And that funny little 
man Pendlebury. Most amusing. I should like to meet 
him again. Though I hear he has grown rather odd— 
most men do if they don’t marry. They have no one to 
tell them of their peculiarities, of course. I believe he 
gardens in bare feet and deciphers dreams for people, 
or something odd like that. But where were we? Oh, 
yes. My dear, I think perhaps if you are going you had 
better start at once, or it will be time to be coming home 
before you get there.” 

Don stood up, hesitated, and looked at Lord Condor. 

“Might I take my gun with me, sir?” he asked. “I 
might see something on my way.” 

Lord Condor smiled. He remembered the days when 
he had been well content to hang about with a gun for 
hours, on the off-chance of a shot. 

“I’m afraid there is precious little to be had on that 
side of the estate,” he said. “It’s not worth walking over. 
Still you might pick up a rabbit or two or a pigeon. Keep 
a bit off the straight track, to the left, after you get over 
the stile.” 

Whether the wild pigeons have some occult means of 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


225 


sensing a gun is a matter of conjecture. It often seems 
so. At any rate Don saw none as he tramped up through 
the forest, and the rabbits, as Copper Top would have 
known, were at this hour feeding out on the high grass 
land. Don himself seemed the only moving thing except 
the dancing flies in the shafts of sunlight that fell slant¬ 
wise through the green shadows. 

Certainly Lord Condor had been right. There was 
precious little to be had on this side of the estate, indeed 
there was nothing. But it was a jolly place. Ishtar 
would like it. He stood for a moment, pleasantly con¬ 
scious of the warm forest scent, of the green shade. 
Then, suddenly, eye, body and hand were all instantly 
alert. The grey-blue flash of a pigeon’s wings! An easy 
shot! The report of his gun crashed and shattered the 
stillness, a shudder ran above the whispering trees, there 
was the dull light thud of a falling body among the last 
year’s leaves beside the track, and Don felt the warm 
glow of delight that still rushed through his veins when 
he brought his quarry down. 

Grey wings fluttered among the leaves, and he ran 
forward quickly. It might be a runner. He was sorry 
he had not killed the bird dead. A good sportsman ought 
to do so. But he had not had enough practice yet. 

And then, mysteriously sprung, so it seemed to Don, 
from nowhere, another boy was confronting him over 
the body of the pigeon. A strange-looking boy! An 
anger so intense burnt in his eyes that it actually resembled 
fire. 

“You shot the pigeon,” he accused, and the anger and 
contempt in his voice was of such a quality that it brought 
the blood heavily into Don’s face. 

“Yes, I did,” he answered stiffly. “I have Lord Con¬ 
dor’s permission.” He supposed the boy thought he was 


226 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

trespassing. He must be Mr. Godolphin’s boy. There 
was no need for him to get into such a tearing rage 
though. 

“You are the Thing that sets steel traps, and I am going 
to fight you, and I hope Til kill you,” said Copper Top, 
and descended upon him with the fury and the swiftness 
of a whirlwind. 

Reeling back under the unexpected onslaught, Don, to 
his dismay, caught sight of Ishtar’s white frock among 
the trees. Hang it all! She was following the boy! 

“Go away, Izzy,” he shouted. “Go away.” 

He was defending himself as best he could without 
hitting back. The boy was'younger than he was, smaller. 
He did not want to hurt him. But the little devil knew 
how to fight! He parried his blows with increasing diffi¬ 
culty, and presently a clean left-hander landed on the cor¬ 
ner of Don’s mouth. It cut his lip against a tooth. He 
tasted blood, and his forbearance vanished. Very well! 
If the little fool wanted it he should have it! 

Ishtar had not gone back, she had halted at a little 
distance. She called out to them, begging them to stop, 
but she called to deaf ears, and presently she buried her 
face in her hands and began to cry. She could hear the 
sounds of their shuffling feet, of their heavy breathing, 
now and then a gasp- 

Don was fighting as furiously now as Copper Top. 
The fierce joy of battle seized him, for he had met his 
match, and finally it was only his superior weight and 
height that enabled him to get a blow in with sufficient 
force to send Copper Top rolling over and over like a 
shot rabbit. Ishtar’s scream stopped him from following 
up his advantage. He checked his forward rush and 
stood breathing heavily with clenched fists until his senses 
gradually returned to him. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


227 


Copper Top lay for a moment where he had fallen, 
then he staggered to his feet with a half-blind movement 
and tried to come up to the fight again. His head was 
buzzing curiously and his legs seemed to have no strength 
in them. He made a step forward, then fell again on 
to his knees and made pitiful, unavailing efforts to lift 
himself up with his right hand. The blood was running 
from his nose. His shining head drooped. 

Ishtar ran forward, sobbing. She knelt beside him and 
put her arms round him. 

“No,” he said, and pushed her away. His lip was 
swelling and his words came thickly. “I don’t want you. 
Go away.” 

He stretched out his hand, drew the dead pigeon into 
his arms and staggered to his feet. There for a moment 
he swayed to and fro, unable to keep his balance. 

Don looked, and felt sick. All his anger faded away. 
It was a beastly thing he had done. 

“Look here,” he said. “I’m very sorry I killed the 
pigeon, but I didn’t know it was yours. How could I? 
We always shoot the wild ones. And I didn’t want to 
fight you. Will you shake hands?” 

Copper Top looked at him over the little body of the 
dead pigeon, and drew back as from something evil. 
This was one of the Things that set the steel straps for 
rabbits. He had learnt to box so that he might fight 
them. But it was no good. They were too strong. He 
looked at Don’s outstretched hand and shuddered. Then 
he turned away with the pigeon in his arms and walked 
unsteadily into the green waiting shadows. It was all 
he could do to move, but he had to get away. He had 
to. And his body was an aching weight that he had to 
carry with him. He had never felt like this before. His 
eyes were full of something scalding, they smarted, he 


228 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER . 


could not see properly. He tried to go fast and nearly 
fell again. The blood from the dead bird dripped on to 
his feet as he went, drop after drop. Something had 
got him by the throat and was choking him. He looked 
up despairingly at the tall tree tops. If he could only get 
up there! But he could hardly move. For the first time 
he felt the burden of his body. He was in bonds, a captive. 

The choking feeling in his throat grew worse. He 
crept in among the tall bracken. The great fronds looked 
so fine and clean, so full of life. He lay among the soft 
grasses at their feet and felt the earth’s touch, close and 
cool and comforting. Great drops of hot water came 
from his eyes and rained down his cheeks and soaked 
away among the grasses. He wiped them away with his 
hand. They had mixed with the blood on his face. He 
wondered what had happened to him. 

It was the first time in his life that Copper Top had 
shed tears. 

The choking feeling in his throat was better now, only 
his breath came funnily in throbs that shook his whole 
body. 

He lay there for a long time. 

Now and then he stroked the dead pigeon with his 
poor little wet blood-stained fingers. Living birds circled 
above and cried. Presently he fell asleep. 

Don and Ishtar looked after the staggering little figure 
until it was out of sight. Then she burst into another 
and more violent fit of sobbing. Don put an awkward 
but reliably strong arm round her and mopped at her wet 
eyes with his handkerchief. 

“Please do stop,” he said. 

His pleasant, everyday world seemed toppling around 
him. All this fuss and fighting because he had shot a 
wild pigeon. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


229 


“I c-can’t b-bear to see Copper Top walking like that,” 
sobbed Ishtar against his shoulder. “He always g-goes 
so quick. A-and his poor face!” 

“Well, he’s knocked my face about too,” protested Don. 
“And he began. I didn’t want to fight.” 

“You shot his pigeon,” wailed Ishtar. 

Don mopped up more tears. He felt she was unjust, 
but he hated to see her cry. 

“How did I know it was his pigeon?” he asked. “It 
was a wild one. I’m beastly sorry about it,” he added 
after a moment or two during which Ishtar did not cease 
to sob. “Let’s go after him and see if he’ll make it up 
now.” 

“We’d never find him. You can’t find Copper Top 
if he doesn’t want you to. And he told me to go away.” 

The sobs broke into a wail. 

“Most fellows would rather be left alone after they’ve 
had a beating,” said Don consolingly. “I would I 
know.” 

He wished though he hadn’t had to hit the little fellow 
so hard. He wished the boy had not refused to shake 
hands. It was by no means the first fight Don MacClean 
had engaged in, also by no means the first time he had 
more or less severely punished his adversary. But this 
time he had a vaguely disconcerting feeling that he was 
on the wrong side. The Victory was his, but the hon¬ 
ours somehow lay with Copper Top. He felt injured. 
“You are the Thing that sets steel traps.” And as a 
matter of fact he had been dead against them ever since 
he had found a little bloody leg in one, bitten off by its 
owner. He had persuaded his father, who was The Mac- 
Clean of MacClean and not easily persuaded by anyone, 
to forbid their use on the estate. Also the pigeon was a 
wild one. 


230 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


All these thoughts jumbled together more or less con¬ 
fusedly in his mind, while Ishtar’s sobs became less 
violent, and she got her own minute handkerchief out 
of a pocket in her petticoat. 

“Look here, Izzy,” he said at length, “if you think 
it’s no good trying to find him, I’d better go up and tell 
Mr. Godolphin what has happened. I was going to see 
him, anyway, and I can’t very well sneak away now as 
though I were ashamed.” 

“Your lip is all c-cut, and there’s some blood on your 
shirt, and your eye’s all s-shutting up,” said Ishtar. 

“Please don’t start crying again Izzy,” said poor Don. 
“I’m all right. Boys knock each other about a bit, you 
know.” 

The interview with Mr. Godolphin was not a thing to 
look forward to, and if Ishtar started crying again he 
felt it would be the last straw. 

“Please don’t start again,” he repeated, and took hold 
of her hand. They had never walked hand in hand 
before, and Ishtar swallowed very hard indeed and tried 
to live up to it. 

“Cousin James is understanding,” she said, taking her 
turn as the consoler. “If you tell him how it was then 
he’ll ’splain to Copper Top.” 

Nevertheless when she had fled to Rose and Kathleen 
in the kitchen and Don stood outside the Professor’s 
door it was undoubtedly one of the unpleasantest moments 
of his life. 

When you have got to take a nasty fence it’s no good 
looking at it. Words of his father’s when he had taught 
him to ride. They came into his mind now. He lifted 
his hand, knocked with unnecessary violence on the door 
before him, and went in. 

The Professor looked up from his writing, startled out 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 231 

of his usual inattention to all else by the unusual and 
imperative knocking followed by the abrupt entrance. 
He blinked with astonishment at the strange boy standing 
in the doorway. 

“God bless my soul,” he exclaimed. “Who are you?” 

For Don, having made his plunge into the room, was 
standing tongue-tied, unable to utter a word. He was 
never shy and rarely nervous, but now both sensations 
rushed together and shattered his courage to bits. Should 
he explain who he was first, or should he tell what had 
happened. He could not think how to begin. A dull red 
flush crept into his face, but the honest brown eyes met 
the Professor’s steadily. The Professor liked the look of 
him. He would have been a handsome boy if his face 
had not been a bit lop-sided. A nice face too. 

“Do you want to see me about something?” he asked 
kindly. 

With a desperate effort Don blurted out who he was, 
and the Professor got up and held out a welcoming hand. 
The boy was very unlike his father if he was shy, he 
thought. 

“Don MacClean’s son, eh?” he exclaimed. “I’m very 
pleased to see you.” 

But the boy did not move. 

“Fd rather not shake hands, if you don’t mind, until 
you’ve heard what’s happened,” he said. 

What on earth did the boy mean? The wildest ideas 
floated across the Professor’s mind. 

Briefly, baldly, standing very straight, and looking him 
in the face, Don told him. 

“Is he very badly hurt?” asked the Professor. 

“No, sir, at least not what we’d think much of. I got 
as good as I gave.” Don’s eyes twinkled at the Pro¬ 
fessor’s satisfied grunt. Thank goodness, the worst was 


232 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


over. “I had to knock him right out at the end or he’d 
have knocked me. But I’m ever so sorry about it, sir. 
You see, I didn’t know.” 

“No, you couldn’t know.” The Professor sat down 
rather heavily. “The fault really rests with me. I— 
I-” He looked at Don. Yes, he liked his face. Per¬ 

haps he could help. Another boy. “I am afraid,” he 
said, after that moment’s pause, “I am afraid I have not 
brought him up in the wisest way. You see, I was writ¬ 
ing a book for the first few years after I picked him 
up, and by the time I began to take a proper interest in 
his education he was sworn brother to everything that 
can fly or run or swim. There are no wild things as 
far as he is concerned. It is so extraordinary and so— 
so beautiful in a way—that I’ve shirked telling him that 
we kill every living thing that we can get at on the face 
of the globe if they are of any use to us for food or 
clothing or sport. I hoped it would dawn on him 
gradually.” 

“He ought to know, sir,” said Don, with some not un¬ 
natural feeling. 

“I know,” replied the Professor guiltily. “But it’s 
not so easy as it sounds.” 

“But—but that is why the animals and birds are put 
into the world.” 

“Is it?” asked the Professor. 

Don stared. He had always heard that James Godol- 
phin was peculiar, but this question was silly. 

“Well,” said the Professor, answering the stare. “I’ll 
be hanged if I’m sure about it! Man has taken up that 
view. But from the point of view of their Creator how 
is it? As for the animals themselves, I should imagine 
Man appears to them as some sort of a Devil in an other¬ 
wise pleasant and well-ordered Universe.” 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


233 


Don did not like to quote the Bible—besides, he was 
not quite sure of the words—but certainly, somewhere in 
Genesis, God had handed every living thing over to Adam 
for his special use and benefit. Of course that did not 
mean that he might be cruel to them. 

“I know foreigners are pretty rotten to animals,” he 
said. “But not English people, I don’t think.” 

An idea struck the Professor. His face brightened. 
Here was a fellow—a really nice fellow—with the typical 
outlook seemingly on the world in general of the ordi¬ 
nary human boy. If only he and Copper Top would 
strike up a friendship! The beginning was unpropitious. 
Undoubtedly. But this boy had no ill-feeling over it. 
Neither would Copper Top have when he understood. 

“Look here,” he said. “By the way, what did you say 
your name was?” 

“Donald, sir. Most of my friends call me Don.” 

“Then I will too, if I may. Now I wonder if you will 
help me ?” 

“I’ll be very glad if it is anything I can do,” said Don, 
and he meant it. 

The Professor got up and perambulated the room with 
his hands behind his back and his beard stuck out. 

“If you would come up and make friends with the 
boy,” he said, after a moment or two. “Talk the thing 
out together, you know. You are quite right when you 
say he ought to know. He can’t go about fighting every¬ 
body who kills the things he’s fond of. It means, more or 
less, that his hand will be against every man. He will 
keep his own point of view, of course, nothing will 
change that now. But it will help if he can understand 
other people’s.” 

“Wouldn’t it be better, sir, if you-” began Don. 

“It would not,” interrupted the Professor, and 



2 34 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


stopped abruptly in his perambulations. “Don’t you 
see”—his eyes twinkled as he looked down at Don—“that 
my point of view is inclined to be the same as his ?” 

“Then isn’t there someone else-?” 

“No,” interrupted the Professor again. “What 1 
want him to get at is the ordinary normal outlook of the 
decent public schoolboy. You see he’s got to go to 
school.” 

“Yes,” said Don. “Of course I’ll be glad to do what 
I can. And I’d like to explain to him about my shooting 
his pigeon, you know. I did try, but he wouldn’t listen. 
He wouldn’t shake hands.” 

This evidently rankled in Don’s mind. A decent chap 
ought to shake hands after a fight. It ought to settle the 
matter. 

The Professor smiled. He had an awfully nice smile, 
Don thought. 

“You mustn’t forget that you appeared suddenly on 
his horizon and destroyed a life that he loved and valued, 
for no valid reason whatever that he can see, except the 
pleasure of killing.” 

Don moved a little uneasily in his chair. 

“Did you kill the bird dead?” asked the Professor. 

“Not quite, I’m afraid, sir.” Don’s pleasant eyes 
looked distressed. “You see,” he added apologetically, 
“Pm really only learning. I think a fellow ought to be 
a dead shot.” 

“Well, I think you will find Copper Top will shake 
hands if you care to come up and see him to-morrow. 
He’s generally just, if he understands. And then,” added 
the Professor suddenly remembering his manners, “I’d 
like to hear something about my old friend. I hope he 
is well?” 

“Yes, thank you, sir, and I’d like to come up to- 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


235 


morrow very much if I may. I ought to be going now. 
But might I have a wash first ? I don’t want to frighten 
Aunt Marion.” 

“Of course! Of course! I ought to have thought of 
it before. We will get some hot water,” exclaimed the 
Professor, conscience-stricken. But for the life of him 
he could not help surveying the work of Copper Top’s 
fists with satisfaction. 

“Kathleen!” he roared. But no little woman ap¬ 
peared as usual in the doorway. 

Mistress Jones was out in the forest, wandering among 
likely places, calling in soft distress like some mother 
bird, with the thought of her baby’s beautiful clear 
face all bruised and bleeding tearing at her heart¬ 
strings. 

So Rose found warm water and towels and helped Don 
to restore himself to order, while Ishtar, actually glad 
to be lifted on to a knee and held close, gave the Professor 
her account of the great fight. 

“I do think Cousin James is really understanding, 
though he doesn’t look like it,” she said, riding home on 
Jane’s broad back with Don walking beside her, and 
her world more or less restored to its proper equilibrium. 

“I should think he is a good sort,” agreed Don. “But 
he has very odd ideas about things.” 

That night when he read the usual bit for the day out 
of his Bible he looked up the First Chapter of Genesis 
and the verses which dealt with Adam’s lordship over 
living things. 

“And God said: Be fruitful and multiply and replenish 
the earth and have dominion over the fish of the sea and 
the fowl of the air and over every living thing that 
moveth upon the earth.” 

It was not quite what he had thought. 


236 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


He read on. 

“And God said: Behold I have given you every herb 
bearing seed which is upon the face of all the earth, and 
every tree in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to 
you it shall be for meat.” 

No, it was not what he had thought. 

The star above the tallest tree top, that looked in at 
Ishtar’s window, looked in at his. It shone to-night 
very brightly. 

But Don was staring at the well-polished barrel of his 
gun. He had never yet been able to harden his heart 
sufficiently to leave it in the gun-room. As he looked 
he could feel the cool smooth stock in his grip, the thrill 
when he raised it to his shoulder. He picked it up al¬ 
most tenderly and took an imaginary aim through the 
open window. And along the glittering barrel he sighted 
the star. 

A long shot. He laughed, put down his gun, and 
tumbled into bed. 


CHAPTER XII 


Don slipped away very early the next morning, so that 
he might do so unseen. He wanted too, rather badly, to 
get the matter settled up with Copper Top; to put himself 
right with the little chap. He wished more than ever 
that he had not shot his pigeon. Various recollections of 
the whole beastly affair remained vivid and unpleasant. 
Yet he could not see where he had really been in fault. 
A fellow couldn’t possibly guess—it was just a bit of 
rotten luck. 

So the thoughts ran through his mind, and his usually 
serene and cheerful countenance was clouded with anxiety 
as he climbed the forest pathway. A small rabbit 
scudded across his path, an easy shot, but his fingers did 
not itch for the smooth stock of his beloved gun. He 
would as soon have shot one of Lady Condor’s West 
Highlanders as anything in the little chap’s part of the 
forest, now that he knew. Suppose he could not make 
him understand. 

It was a dull, heavy morning. Quite early there had 
been some thunder rain. Everything smelt sweet, but it 
was intensely hot and airless. He thought there must be 
a storm brewing. Whew! It was close here among the 
trees. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead as 
he climbed. The little chap was probably fretting about 
his pigeon still. 

Presently he came to the pond below the little streams, 
and standing with his feet among the ripples at its edge 
was Copper Top. He was quite naked. His slim white 
237 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


238 

figure was beautiful, Don thought, and Don was unused 
to noticing if things were beautiful. His attitude was 
that of one who waited. He looked down at Don as he 
came up the path, and in his wide clear eyes dwelt 
speculation. Don felt as if he were a specimen of some 
sort being inspected, coldly and critically inspected. It 
gave him a curiously unpleasant sensation, but he faced 
the situation in the dogged way Don faced things that 
had to be done, however unpleasant. As he came close 
he could see the mark of his fists on Copper Top’s face. 
A discoloration here and there, giving it a curious appear¬ 
ance, purple-blue and green under translucent white, like 
veined marble. The whole face, too, had that transparent 
look—translucent. Don thought suddenly of a white 
water-lily that Ishtar had picked and dropped, and he 
had inadvertently put the heel of his boot on some of 
its shining petals. A careless thought of half-regret had 
passed through his mind for the spoilt perfection. 

There were birds flying round Copper Top’s head, but 
as Don came they scattered, and there was silence. The 
tinkle of the little streams as they fell into the pond only 
seemed to accentuate it. What on earth should he say. 
It was a beastly uncomfortable silence, but for the life of 
him he could not think what to say. 

At last he blurted out, “Look here! I came up to tell 
you I’m so sorry. You see, I didn’t understand. I 
wouldn’t kill anyone’s pets for anything-” 

There was something desperate in the earnestness with 
which he spoke. 

A puzzled look crept into the coldness of Copper Top’s 
inspection. His aloofness fell away. 

“I don’t understand too,” he said. “But ’Dophin says 
it’s not your fault because you’ve been taught it is right 
to kill things.” 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


239 


“Only the wild ones, and for food,” answered Don 
eagerly. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone’s pets for anything,” 
he repeated. 

“I see,” said Copper Top slowly. “That’s why they’re 
all afraid of you, of course. And then you call them 
wild.” 

“I don’t know about that. They’ve always been wild, 
I expect. Rabbits now, you know, they’d overrun every¬ 
thing if they weren’t kept down.” 

“’Dophin told me all that. I’ve been thinking about 
it.” Copper Top’s brows drew together. “I think 
you’re all wrong. It’s their own life, it isn’t yours. 
Their own life here, I mean. You’ve no right to take it 
’cause you want to eat their bodies or ’cause you like to 
shoot. But I think it’s like this. People are the same 
as Stoats and Carrion Crows, you know. They haven’t 
learnt anything better yet.” 

Don’s face flushed. “Oh, I say!” he began, and 
paused. The boy was talking nonsense of course, but 
after all the great thing was that he was ready to make 
it up. “I don’t think it’s quite the same thing, you know. 
And then there’s the sport. A fellow isn’t much good as 
a rule if he isn’t a decent sportsman.” 

“Sport? That’s fun, isn’t it?” queried Copper Top. 
“You kill for fun? It makes you happy?” 

“Well, in a way,” acknowledged Don. 

The conversation was not taking altogether a satis¬ 
factory turn. He felt vaguely that he was not keeping 
his promise to the Professor. But he had brought the 
little chap up in a queer way! 

He made another effort. “You see, it isn’t only the 
fun of it. There’s the skill and—and—that sort of 
thing, you know.” 

“Skill? But you can use that for everything,” said 


240 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Copper Top, with his queer little air of puzzled patience 
with the incredibly impossible. 

“After all,” said Don rather desperately, “what are 
they all here for if they aren’t for us to make use of?” 

Copper Top looked more puzzled than ever. 

“Well I think they’re here just the same’s we are,” 
he said. “Why not? And I like them better than 
People. Some of them kill for their food, but none of 
them kill for fun. I do not understand.” 

He looked thoughtfully at Don. He liked his clean 
clear brown face. He liked the way his eyes looked at 
you. They were just the colour of the little streams that 
ran high up on the moorland deep down among the grass 
and the heather. 

“You don’t understand too,” he said kindly. “It is 
a pity.” 

Then suddenly the boys smiled at each other. 

“I will shake hands,” said Copper Top. 

They shook hands gravely. Don felt rather shy and 
awkward, but Copper Top’s easy grace of manner shone 
more brightly in this moment of undoubted emotion. 
A moment in which something important came into 
being. 

“Come into the water. It will be cooler,” he said, and 
slipped into it like some big shining fish. 

“I’d like to.” Don hesitated on the brink. “But I 
haven’t got a towel.” 

“There’s the sun,” Copper Top called back. “It will 
be out soon’s we want it. Come on!” He somer¬ 
saulted across the pond, sprang up to the top of the low¬ 
est waterfall, and stood poised for a dive. “Come on!” 
he called again. 

Don hesitated no longer. He hurried out of his clothes 
and plunged in. The water felt so good. It was only a 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


241 


halting place for the little streams from the high springs, 
and always fresh and sweet on the hottest day. The boys 
splashed about in it for quite a while, and with every 
minute they became greater friends. Don was a fine 
swimmer, but Copper Top was a fish. He was the better 
man in the water, and Don loved him for it. 

The sun came out right enough as Copper Top had 
said it would. He jumped out of the water and shook 
himself in the full blaze just as a dog does, so that he 
was dry almost at once. Don did the same, but he could 
not do it so well. 

“Now we will run up for breakfast,” said Copper 
Top, and ran. 

Don had to wait to collect his clothes and put on his 
shoes. What a nuisance they were! Then he started to 
catch Copper Top up. He was the champion sprinter 
at his school, and that meant something, so he anticipated 
no difficulty. Soon he found he might, with equal chance 
of success, try to overtake the wind. • Copper Top 
was the better man at running, and Don loved him for it. 

When he caught sight of him again he was tumbling in 
the meadow grass with the two dogs. 

Don scattered his clothes to the winds and joined the 
game. Copper Top shouted, and the dogs barked. Birds 
were flying all about. 

Don lay on his back in the soft warm grass, and 
shouted too. He was as dry as a bone now. Running 
Water and King Edward came up and investigated him 
with friendly velvet noses. A chiff-chaff was pecking 
about among the rough hair o.n the donkey’s back. The 
martins came flying low. He had never seen them on 
the move so close. Their long wings were wonderful. 
The dogs came and competed for attention. It was all 
extraordinarily pleasant. 


242 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


He fell upon Copper Top and rolled him over and over 
in the grass. Then Copper Top got the upper hand and 
buried Don’s face in a patch of white clover. 

“I say! It smells good!” Don mumbled, with his 
mouth full of the fragrant stuff, and lay very still. Then 
with a sudden violent effort he broke free and bolted with 
such speed that he tumbled over himself into the grass 
again and lay, laughing and panting, until Copper Top 
came and pulled him up. 

“Let’s go in to breakfast,” he said. “I am hungry.” 
He held his arms out wide. “As hungry as that.” 

“So am I,” said Don. “I could eat a-” 

He stopped. He had very nearly said “a whole 
chicken.” As he followed Copper Top through the 
wicket-gate in the sweet briar hedge he wondered if they 
never killed even a chicken. Really that would be carry¬ 
ing things a bit far! 

A chiff-chaff was singing like a thing possessed from 
the top of the pear tree. Copper Top looked up towards 
it. 

“I wonder if they will come in to breakfast with you 
here,” he said. 

Don decided that they did not kill even chicken, and 
wondered what there would be for breakfast. He sent 
a wistful thought towards the loaded sideboard at the 
Castle. That York ham! And the cold salmon! Would 
they only have bread and butter and jam here? Eggs 
would be all right—but no bacon. 

The Professor was already seated at the table drinking 
some coffee, which smelt uncommonly good, and eating 
oatcake with Devonshire cream. And there were eggs, 
fried eggs with tomatoes, and hot rolls and scones, and 
several sorts of jam, and honey in the comb. And lettuce 
and radishes, and all sorts of fruit. The Devonshire 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


243 


cream was in bowls. Everyone had a bowl to them¬ 
selves. It wasn’t half a bad spread! 

And the Professor seemed ever so glad to see him, and 
the chiff-chaffs did come in. The jolliest perky little 
fellows. Don enjoyed his breakfast thoroughly. They 
talked of a lot of interesting things too, and the Professor 
told some ripping stories of his experiences in the Secret 
Service during the war. After breakfast he offered Don 
a cigarette, as man to man, while they chatted. 

The Professor also was delighted. Never had he felt 
so secure about the boy, so satisfied that he would get on 
all right out in the world. He had a few minutes con¬ 
versation with Don when Copper Top vanished to put on 
the few garments he condescended to wear. 

“It’s all right between you, I see,” he said. 

“Rather, sir,” answered Don, and something in the 
Professor’s face made him add, “He’s a first-class little 
chap, I think.” 

“You don’t look on him as a silly, effeminate sort of 
fellow ?” 

“Not much, sir,” said Don emphatically, and laughed. 
“It was only my weight gave me the pull yesterday. 
And—why he can beat me at running, or swimming, 
easily, and I can run a bit against quite good chaps.” 

The Professor nodded. “But he’ll never make a 
sportsman, and I don’t know that I want him to.” 

“I don’t think I do either,” said Don, and then was 
surprised at himself for saying so. “It won’t matter,” 
he added, “he can go in for games.” 

“Well,” said the Professor doubtfully, “you see, so 
far he says he can’t see why anybody should want to hit 
a ball about, or what’s the good of trying to beat anyone 
else at it!” 

“That is a pity!” exclaimed Don. “He’d be pretty 


244 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

useful at games, too. His boxing’s uncommonly good 
for a fellow of his size.” 

“Oh, he can do anything that wants a quick eye and 

hand if he likes,” said the Professor. “I-” he 

hesitated a moment. “I got him to learn to box because 
he wanted to be able to fight anyone who was cruel—steel 
traps and that sort of thing. But I don’t know that I 
was wise. He can’t go about hitting everyone in the face 
whom he will think cruel.” 

“It’s a jolly useful thing to be able to do,” said 
Don comfortingly. “And he’ll understand all right in 
time.” 

The Professor was not so sure that Copper Top would 
ever understand, but at any rate Don MacClean would 
help considerably to that most desirable end. The more 
the Professor saw of him the more he liked him. He 
watched the two boys go down the garden path through 
the flowers and the bees towards the Beech Grove. 
Don’s arm was round Copper Top’s shoulders, their 
heads were close together. 

The Professor smiled, wondering what so engrossed 
them, and went in happily to his work. 

His new book was to be a History of Human Fetishes 
from the earliest Magician’s gruesome philtres and 
tortures down to the last modern discovery of equally 
gruesome Back Stairs to Youth, Health and Heaven. 
He was enjoying it enormously. It proved everything 
he had ever said. And more—much more! 

The hot September sunshine streamed into his study 
in all its full morning glory, carrying the pungent re¬ 
freshing scent of autumn flowers; the wasps and bees 
buzzed in and out, tremendously busy about something, 
and making a furious fuss about it; and the Professor sat 
with an open book on his left hand and another propped 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


245 

up in front of him, and read and jotted and scribbled with 
an absorption that was almost ecstatic. 

Presently he became aware that an attempt, as per¬ 
sistent but different to the wasps, was being made from 
the outside world to attract his attention. He put out 
a protesting hand, but it continued, and gradually assumed 
the shape of a voice, saying politely: 

“I beg your pardon, Cousin James, but please may I 
speak to you ?” 

“God bless my soul!” exclaimed the Professor. 
“Have you been there long, my dear?” 

It was Ishtar, perfect, complete, and exquisitely finished 
as a flower. She stood beside his chair and smiled at him. 

“Not very” she said. “But I’ve said ‘How do you do?’ 
three times.” 

“You don’t say so,” said the Professor, astonished 
and penitent. 

“I’m very sorry for ’sturbing you,” Ishtar continued 
earnestly. “But I had to come, and I did want to know 
is Don up here?” 

The Professor looked round. “He was,” he replied. 
“Yes, of course he was, just now.” Then his eye en¬ 
countered the clock. “Bless my soul, why it’s past eleven! 
He was here to breakfast. That must have been about 
eight o’clock.” 

“Did Copper Top forgive him?” she asked. 

“Yes, my darling.” 

“I am glad. And I do want to see Copper Top.” 

“They must be out in the woods somewhere. They 
went off together of course—yes-” 

The Professor smiled as he remembered the two 
figures. 

“Cousin James, I—I’m going away to-morrow,” said 
Ishtar in a rather quavering little voice. 


246 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

“What!” exclaimed the Professor, and grunted with 
most satisfying dismay and sympathy. 

“Mummy is taking me to the sea. I do think it is 
pretty rotten luck.” 

Ishtar had begun to pick up curious expressions from 
the boys. It had possibly weighed with Lady Hawkhurst 
when she had decided on a few weeks at the seaside. 

“So do I,” said the Professor heartily. 

Ishtar climbed up on to his knee. “I do think you are 
understanding,” she sighed. “Though you don’t look 
like it a bit.” 

“No, I suppose not,” owned the Professor. 

“ ’Cept p’raps your eyes sometimes,” conceded Ishtar. 
She leant her fair head back against his shoulder. It 
ached, and she was tired. She had only secured permis¬ 
sion to visit the Little House with difficulty and in col¬ 
lusion with Grannie. She did not want to go away. It 
gave her a lump in her throat to think of it. 

But she felt better with Cousin James. He was under¬ 
standing. He hadn’t told her she would love the seaside 
when she got there, and talked about digging on the sands 
and picking up shells. He didn’t say she was lucky to 
be going, and that he wished he had the chance. 

“Cousin James, dear, I do love Copper Top and the 
woods and the wild creatures and being up here, and all 
these last days I haven’t come ’cos Don and the boys were 
there, and I think that’s why I feel so bad—I didn’t know 
they were the last-” 

“No,” murmured the Professor. “No—one doesn’t.” 

“And I did hate Don hurting Copper Top’s face. And 
I do think Copper Top is right about not k-killing things, 
only when I’m not up here it does seem right that Don 
ought to be a good shot, like Daddy and Grandpa.” 

Two large tears gathered. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


247 


“Yes, I know,” said the Professor. “I feel like that 
myself.” Then he had an inspiration. “Look here, I 
tell you what. We won’t make up our minds at all just 
yet. We’ll only remember that they are both first-rate 
fellows, and not worry about anything else.” 

“You don’t think it matters about which of them is 
right ?” 

“Well, they’ve got to do what they think right them¬ 
selves, not what you and I think right. So long as they 
both do that I think we ought to be satisfied, don’t 
you?” 

The two big tears brimmed over and splashed down on 
to the Professor’s waistcoat. 

“You see, C-Cousin James,” said Ishtar, “I do love 
them both so much.” 


PART II 


CHAPTER I 

The Professor looked round his study as one who 
greets old friends after a long absence. He accepted the 
smiling invitation of the stout volumes in calf and vellum 
and took down one and another, handling them with that 
subtly tender touch that bespeaks the lover and the 
owner. Copper Top would say they knew him. Well, 
why not? 

There was Milo, still rending his oak. The Professor 
laid a friend’s hand on the close-curled bent head, then 
ran it down the tense muscles of the beautiful forearm; 
just by way of greeting. 

He sat at the writing-table, and passed his fingers 
along the worn rolled edge of the mahogany, recognised 
various ink spots and the burnt hole in the leather. It 
looked a bit forlorn, the old table, with no books or 
papers on it, in spite of a wonderful bowl of hyacinths. 
The whole room was unfamiliarly tidy, as if it had put 
on Sunday clothes to greet him. But it was pleasant to 
see it again. He sniffed with satisfaction the well- 
remembered scent of books and flowers and tobacco 
mingling with the silken forest winds drifting through 
the open window. It was one of those amazingly sweet¬ 
smelling things, a wet spring day. Soft and thick and 
248 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


249 


shining the rain fell over the grey-green world, and the 
intoxicating fragrance of growing things was every¬ 
where. 

The pear tree was in full bloom. How white the 
blossom was! A throstle sat there calling to his mate. 

He was glad to be back and feel he was settled here 
for a while again. Sitting at the old writing-table he 
recaptured the writer’s joy in his work. His book on 
Human Fetishes; now he would finish it. And what 
copy he had secured! First-hand copy. Amazing! 

Eight years! It was a good slice out of a man’s life. 
But what years they had been! Never would he have 
more wonderful years, however many lives he might 
traverse. Eight years trekking the world with Copper 
Top. Would he ever really settle down again! And if 
the boy called would he not follow ? Of course he would! 
A damned fool too if he didn’t! Yes, they had been 
simply tremendous, those eight years. He chuckled over 
many a gay and cheerful memory as he sat in his old 
place by the wood fire and sucked at his pipe. Marion 
Condor. He had met her at the station. A pleasant 
sight. “I am getting old,” she had said. Old? He did 
not feel a day older. He felt younger. He had been 
growing younger every day of that eight years. “You 
will never be old,” he had answered. He smiled as he 
thought of her, waving several scarves at him and calling 
back as she went, “I do my best!” Her smile and her 
scarves were still like rainbows. 

Old? The Professor snorted. He had never felt so 
young since he and Margot had lived in Paradise. Cop¬ 
per Top—the young rogue—what a time they had had to¬ 
gether. The absolute gay, glad enjoyment of it. The 
glory and goodness of it. His thoughts wandered back 
beyond those years, to the time when he worried himself 


250 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


into fiddle-strings because he thought the boy must go 
to school. Why the devil had he thought the boy must 
go to school ? Because every other boy went. A fine rea¬ 
son. He had been an old sheep after all, no better than 
the People he had despised. 

He recalled interviews with the heads of various boys’ 
schools, and chuckled. He heard himself stammering 
over his explanations of Copper Top’s peculiarities. 
They had smiled at him indulgently. The only peculiarity 
that had really upset them was vegetarianism. That, of 
course, was impossible. They all agreed over that. It 
could not be tolerated. However, the other boys would 
soon laugh him out of it. Besides, hunger would soon 
induce a more healthy appetite. He need not worry. 

He remembered the awful moment when, having 
finally deposited Copper Top at the most possible of the 
various establishments, he returned to the Little House 
alone. It made him feel sick even now. And then he 
laughed. Just a week later the boy had walked in at 
breakfast time. Fifty miles across country without map 
or chart as a bird flies back to its home. And perfectly 
sure of his welcome! 

Then had come the thrilling moment when the obvious 
—of course—obvious—way out of it had suddenly burst 
upon him. He would continue the boy’s education him¬ 
self upon new lines. He would take him to see the 
world. He would take him to visit all nations. He 
would take him—and he remembered how words had 
failed him at the magnificence of the idea. 

School! The dry-as-dust, second-hand knowledge. 
The ugliness. The deadly routine. Oh, the petty thing! 
And what had it resulted in? People who made wars. 
People who quarrelled in the name of God. People who 
—Ptcha! The emotion of the great day when that mag- 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


251 


nificent thought came swept over him again. He had 
even taken the necessary step of resigning his Professor¬ 
ship with a minimum of regret. 

And what a success it had been! For eight years they 
had wandered over the globe, he and that wonderful baby 
that he had picked up off the forest pathway. On foot 
or horse, on mules and camels, by sea and river, and 
never, if they could help it, by train. And they knew the 
Wide World and the wonder and glory of it, and the 
peoples who dwell upon it, and the birds and beasts and 
flowers, and tree and wood and stream, in a way that no 
man who travels by train can do. Was there anywhere 
they had not been, wondered the Professor, from the 
homely Breton village, the Norwegian Fjord, the Dutch 
Canal, to the great deserts, the trackless forests, and 
the far regions of ice and snow? From the old great 
cities of the world, where civilisations had risen and 
waned, to tiny villages hidden in crevices of mountains 
or lost on the edge of the plain? 

And he had not neglected the boy’s education on other 
lines. Certainly he had not. The heads of those various 
establishments for young gentlemen—he chuckled again 
as he thought of his interviews with them—they would 
no doubt consider the boy badly grounded. But what 
a lot he really knew. How many languages—like a 
native. And what a Greek scholar! He had had his 
voice trained too. The boy sang like all the angels, 
God bless him. And he was less noticeably unlike other 
people now. It was better it should be so. And yet— 
The Professor stared at the many-hued flames and re¬ 
called a night of stars on the African veldt; a day 
when the sun had blazed out of the pure blue of Eastern 
skies—the shadows had seemed alive; a day among the 
flowers on the Roman campagna. There were quite a 


252 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


number of them. Had the boy indeed communion with 
things hidden from men, secret knowledge shared by 
secret beings? So that he loved things differently from 
others—for their own sakes? The Professor did not 
know. He had gathered up the fragments from Copper 
Top’s table and been very happy. Happiness. It seemed 
such an easy thing to the boy. 

The Professor began to nod. Copper Top. By the 
way—must remember—call him Jim—at Cambridge- 

The Professor fell asleep. He had been travelling for 
a good many hours and had eaten a hearty lunch on 
arrival. But his dreams were pleasant. He smiled and 
snored, and once he stretched a wandering hand and 
murmured “Wanky.” Was Wanky, whose bones lay 
beneath the pear tree, really there? Copper Top would 
say, “Why not?” 

Kathleen woke him up an hour later bringing in the 
post. The Professor blinked, rubbed his eyes, and smiled 
at her. 

“It’s uncommonly pleasant to see you and the Little 
House again, Kathleen,” he said. 

Indeed Kathleen and the Little House were inseparable 
parts of the whole that was Home. 

“And it’s I that am glad to see you back, Himself,” 
she answered. 

She looked smaller and greyer and more secretive than 
ever, but her smile at him was worth having. He waved 
the letter she had handed him towards the empty chair 
on the other side of the hearth. 

“Sit down, and let us have a bit of a chat,” he said. 
“Why, let me see, it must be two years since we last 
ran back to have a look at you all.” 

“All that,” she answered, sitting herself very bolt 
upright on the extreme edge of the chair, for Mistress 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


^53 


Jones knew what was becoming. “All that and a bit 
over. But sure and it’s a grand time you’ve had.” 

Kathleen had had a weekly letter whenever in any way 
possible. 

“That’s true,” said the Professor. “And how do you 
think the boy is looking?” 

Didn’t he know what she wanted to talk about! 

“He looks fine as the sun, your honour, and grown 
like one of the saplings in the forest.” 

“Five foot ten, and I hope he’ll stay at that. It’s a 
good height for a man.” 

“I’m not thinking he could be improved.” Mistress 
Jones sat very erect and proud. She thought of the boy 
as he had danced her round the kitchen in the delight of 
seeing her again. And she had not felt foolish, but 
young and glad for a few precious moments before he had 
flown out again, vaulting over the window-sill just like 
he used to do, and she had sat down with her apron 
over her head and wept for joy after the manner of 
mortals. 

“And is it staying for a while now you will be?” she 
asked somewhat wistfully. 

“Yes, Kathleen, we are going to settle down now, 
and the boy will be going to Cambridge in the autumn 
and I shall be going on with my book and it will be like 
old times again.” 

The Professor smiled at her benignly, but Kathleen 
said nothing. She knew better. “There are no birds 
in any last year’s nest.” And she knew more. That it 
is well that it is so. And yet- 

“I’m thinking it will be time I got on with the scones 
for tea,” she said, and stood up. 

“Scones!” exclaimed the Professor. “They cook well 



2 54 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


in many parts of the world, but Eve tasted nothing to 
beat your scones, Kathleen. Let us have plenty of them, 
and jam, and cream.” 

“There’s the gooseberry jam for your honour and the 
mulberry jam for—” She stopped suddenly. “What 
will I be calling him?” she asked. “Is it Mr. Copper Top 
or Mr. James?” 

The Professor looked puzzled. “Well, Kathleen,” he 
began. Then he stopped too. “I don’t think I know,” 
he said. 

“Then,” said Mistress Jones firmly, “it will be Mr. 
James.” 

“It will make him laugh!” 

“Maybe. It’s not understanding these things he is. 
But”—she swallowed something in her throat—“it’s a 
man he is now within a little, and I’ll not be wanting in 
respect to him.” 

“Perhaps you are right, Kathleen,” said the Professor 
kindly. “I’ve been thinking I ought to call him James 
myself, or perhaps Jim will do.” 

Mistress Jones went to the manufacture of her scones 
and the Professor turned to the letter she had brought 
him, which he had been holding in his hand. It was from 
Pendlebury. He opened it, read, and laughed. 

“Dear Jimmy,” it ran. “It may have escaped your 
memory that there is a small entrance examination for 
the Varsity. A little rudimentary knowledge is necessary 
apart from Greek Verse and singing. Has the boy ac¬ 
quired this same by any odd chance? Should advise 
sending him to me for the next six months to lick into 
some conformity to type. Doubtful if he will ever settle 
down anywhere after the way brought up. If he does 
not, am prepared to join next eight years’ trip. You’ve 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 255 

been a damned sight more lucky than you deserve. 
Yours, 

"Pen.” 

The Professor snorted, then he grinned. Pie turned 
the letter over to the blank outside sheet, extracted a 
pencil from his waistcoat pocket and wrote: 

"Conformity to type not desired. Don’t care a hang 
if he doesn’t settle down. Come and spend the long 
vacation here. In the meantime forward particulars asked 
for. Opinions not required. Yours, 

"Jimmy.” 

He had just finished this when Copper Top vaulted in 
at the open window and shook himself like a big dog. 
The scent of the rain on growing things filled the room. 
He came to the hearthrug and gave himself another 
shake in front of the fire, a gentler shake, and looked 
down at the Professor with his wide, cheerful smile. 

Little Wolf, who had followed him, shook himself too, 
but he had no eyes for the Professor. He sat down in 
front of Copper Top, lifted his sharp muzzle, grey now 
with advancing years, and barked joyfully. Copper Top 
picked him up, and he nestled close with adoring eyes. 

"He won’t let any of the other creatures come near 
me without going for them, the little wretch,” said Cop¬ 
per Top. "Oh, and Kathleen has just called me Mr. 
James! I must be grown up!” 

The Professor looked at him as he stood before the 
fire watching the leaping flames and stroking the little 
black head against his shoulder. Looked and tried to 
be critical. But how can you be critical of a thing that 
gives out joy and vitality from, so it seemed to the Pro- 


256 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


fessor, some radiant centre. And yet he had known 
people irritated by Copper Top. Over-rich, over-eaten, 
over-dressed people with no sense of humour and an 
exceedingly vast sense of their own importance. Had 
known him affect dyspeptic, jaundiced people with that 
same feeling that prompts a man or boy in a bad mood 
to throw a stone at any singing bird that crosses his 
path. 

But the Professor was no longer anxious when he 
thought of Copper Top taking his place in the world, 
because gradually, through the years, the deepest and 
most vital difference between the boy and other people 
had dawned upon him. Copper Top judged things as 
they were, not by how they affected him. He might get 
hurt in his journey through life, he would get hurt, but 
never in the way the Professor had dreaded. And he 
had not grown up, as the Professor now realised he had 
feared, into something abnormal or effeminate. 

Standing there, stroking Little Wolf and smiling at 
the Professor, he looked an entirely wholesome, capable, 
normal lad. Tall and straight and tough as a young 
sapling. Nothing abnormal about him whatever. 

“Yes, I suppose you are grown up,” he answered. 

But he thought, “You have the secret of eternal child¬ 
hood. What is it?” Was it that he lived always right 
in the centre of the hour, while the rest looked before 
and after, mourning over shrouded bygone yesterdays, 
or anticipating happier to-morrows? Was it-? 

Well, what did it matter? So long as the boy kept 
that wide smile of his and that clean straight body. . . . 
Here he was—old fool—on the verge of worrying over 
the future again, and he had not worried for eight years. 
No wonder he felt younger. Did he ever want to bury 
himself again in the study of Human Fetishes? Those 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


257 

most dinging bits of Humanity’s long and dreary past. 
Decomposed of all of them—spreading disease- 

Copper Top gave himself another little shake. Again 
the scent of wet woods made itself perceptible. The 
Professor got back into the centre of the moment. The 
rain was still wet in the boy’s tossed shining hair. He 
had thrown his coat over a chair to dry and was in his 
shirt-sleeves. It was odd, however careless his dress, 
he never looked untidy. 

“It’s simply glorious!” he exclaimed. “You must 
come out after tea. It will stop raining about six. The 
sun will shine and everything will shout. You must 
come out and shout too.” 

The Professor smiled back at him. “Certainly I will. 
I meant to have a turn after lunch, but I began to handle 
my books, and then I believe I fell asleep.” 

“That is always a good thing if you remember your 
dreams,” said Copper Top cheerfully. “It’s jolly to be 
back again. The swallows are back too. The missal 
thrushes have their nest in the pear tree and two eggs in 
it. They showed me. And oh, ’Dophin, have you seen 
the kittens?” 

He put Little Wolf down and vanished. A minute 
later he was back with an armful of sandy kittens with 
blue eyes and white stomachs, the latest generation of 
the Sandy Puss Family. He tumbled them all over 
Little Wolf, who sat in dignified disgust while they 
played with him as with a woolly ball that refused to be 
rolled over. 

“I have had a letter from Pendlebury,” said the Pro¬ 
fessor. 

Copper Top sat up on his heels and took notice. 

“He wants you to go to him to be coached for your 
exam in the autumn.” 



258 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“You don’t want me to, do you?” 

“No,” said the Professor honestly. “I don’t.” 

“Then why are you wringing your beard off?” 

The Professor unwrung it. “Because Pm not at all 
sure that he is not right.” 

“I shall never teach you not to worry,” said Copper 
Top. “The spring has come. We are just back. We 
are perfectly happy. We have five kittens. I shall not go 
to Dr. Pen. We both know perfectly well I shall not go. 
And yet here you are worrying for fear I ought to go.” 

He reached for a kitten and sat the creature on his 
shoulder. They both looked at the Professor, and the 
Professor felt that the one did not look at him with more 
curiosity than the other. 

“Suppose I never got to Cambridge at all. It wouldn’t 
really matter, would it?” Copper Top concluded, and 
smiled at him. 

“Well,” began the Professor, and stopped. A faintly 
puzzled expression crept over his face. Why was he so 
desperately keen that the boy should go to Cambridge? 
A Varsity education. Was it after all . . . The thought 
snapped into his mind and left him speechless. Was it 
only another Fetish? A Public School and Varsity 
education. And the War. The hideous awful War. 
Hospitals. Mad Houses. Drink Shops. Vivisection 
Laboratories. The War. The Human Fiasco. School 
and Varsity Education. The highest Education. Good 
Lord, any education! Where did it lead after all? 

He pulled himself together. 

He had scrapped school, but he did not want to scrap 
Cambridge too. He had been very happy at Cambridge 
himself. It had been a great time. 

“You see,” he said, “I want you to go to Cambridge 
because it is the best education I know of.” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


259 


“We will try it,” agreed Copper Top gently. He had 
a curious way with the Professor sometimes as if he 
were talking to a child. “When the time comes,” he added. 

“There is an examination,” murmured the Professor, 
fingering Pendlebury’s letter. 

“So,” answered Copper Top cheerfully, with a good 
guttural accent. 

“My dear boy,” the Professor expostulated. They 
had spent one spring and summer wandering through 
Germany, through its great realms of forest, among its 
perpetual melody of river waters. They had enjoyed it 
enormously, but when Copper Top used German expres¬ 
sions the Professor earnestly wished he had never taken 
him there. Indeed he disliked him using any expressions 
in a foreign language. Other English boys might look 
on it as side, especially with such an excellent pronuncia¬ 
tion. They would have in the Professor’s day. 

“Oh,” said Copper Top, “I forgot. I’m sorry. What 
do they examine you in?” 

“Well, I expect it’s a bit different from what it was 
in my time. Nothing very stiff though, I imagine,” 
answered the Professor. “I’ve suggested to Pen that he 
should come to us for the Long Vacation. He could 
coach you up in the subjects he thinks you are weak in.” 

“We will see.” Copper Top smiled serenely. “It 
will be first-rate if he comes. And he will make you 
laugh. ’Dophin! Listen!” 

He held up one hand. And, suddenly, so it seemed 
to the Professor, the room was filled with the throbbing 
melody of the missal thrush’s song. A slender single 
theme given with full-throated ecstasy. It seized the air 
and flung it into silver waves, even as a sudden shaft of 
sunlight struck the falling rain to gold. 

Copper Top stood up with one single movement to 


26 o 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


his full height. The Professor looked at him and a 
ridiculous idea crossed his mind. Ridiculous? But it 
was so! The boy’s face looked as if made of gold and 
silver. Translucent too. He could see Thoughts pass¬ 
ing through it. Wonderful Thoughts. The boy was 
expecting something. He was waiting . . . listening. 

The thrush had stopped singing in the sudden way he 
does. There was a curious pause ... a silence. 

Then someone knocked at the door. Kathleen to tell 
them the scones were ready, thought the Professor, and 
called out “All right.” And then felt, quite absurdly, 
that he had broken something. 

The door opened slowly, seductively, and a tall slip of 
a girl stood there smiling at them out of the shadows 
beyond . . . beautiful soft shadows. 

She was dressed in a white mackintosh cape with the 
hood drawn over her head. The water dripped from it 
in a little shower, sprinkling with silver drops of light 
the polished floor. Her face was like a rain-washed 
rose-coloured flower. 

“Undine!” flashed into the Professor’s mind. 

Copper Top moved towards her. She held out two 
bare hands wet with rain and he took them into his. 

“You have come through water,” he said and laughed. 
“Oh, Ishtar! How wonderful of you! How did you 
know?” 

She looked up at him with sweet eyes, her face warm 
and radiant. “Grannie told me you were back,” she 
said. “I had to come. I couldn’t wait a minute. Oh, 
’Dophin . . . dear ’Dophin. . . 

She was between them now, each holding one hand. 

“Take off your wet cloak, my dear.” 

“Oh, Copper Top, you have grown up! I think I ex¬ 
pected you to be just the same!” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


261 


She slipped the hood back and unfastened the buttons 
of her mackintosh, the Professor complicating the mat¬ 
ter with his assistance. 

“You have your lovely wave still,” said Copper Top, 
and stroked it with his fingers. “Am I grown up? I 
don’t know. Age is a delusion. Look at ’Dophin!” 

“You are tall,” she said, still regarding him critically. 
“I believe you are nearly as tall as Don. Somehow I 
didn’t think you would be. Oh, it is good to see you 
both again!” She turned from one to the other. “And 
the Little House. The dear Little House. And the 
kittens all over the place just like they used to be, the 
darlings. And the birds . . .” 

There were ridiculous tears in her eyes. She had not 
known she cared so much. Her wet eyes were more 
like stars than ever. 

“Where have you been all this time?” asked Copper 
Top. 

“At school,” she answered, and pouted. “Brighton 
and Paris. I am now finished. Turned out according 
to the correct pattern. It wasn’t bad fun on the whole,” 
she added confidentially. “Only a lot of it was waste 
of time, I think. Don and I both thought so when we 
compared notes. He told me about the holidays he 
spent with you. It used to make me furious because I 
hadn’t been there too. Furious! Just bubbling with 
angry regret. Like I used to feel when I had been sent 
to bed early when I was small, and then heard them 
talking of lovely things they had done while I wasn’t 
there. I used to imagine what it would have been like 
to walk across those gorgeous Alps with you three, 
stopping just where we liked, and lying among the 
flowers, and climbing up into impossible places! I actu¬ 
ally asked Mother if I couldn’t. I begged her. And 


262 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


she said, ‘With those two boys and your Cousin James!* 
Oh, ’Dophin, if you could have heard her say, ‘Cousin 
James.’ ” 

“My dear,” said the Professor, “I have the profound- 
est sympathy with her feelings.” 

“Grannie understood. She said”—Ishtar giggled— 
“she said ‘If it wasn’t for my figure, dear, I would take 
you myself.’ Grannie is lovely always.” 

“You are like her, I think,” said the Professor. 
“Like I remember her as a girl.” 

“Oh, do you think so?” asked Ishtar eagerly. “I am 
so glad. Everyone says I am so like Mother. That’s 
just a big compliment, I know. But I’d rather be like 
Grannie than anybody.” 

“Likenesses are in the eyes of the beholder,” mis¬ 
quoted the Professor. “Won’t you sit down, my dear?” 

“I can’t. I’m too excited—or is it delighted? The 
last time I was here I sat on your knee and cried because 
I was going away. And now I am back. We will begin 
just where we left off like they do in the fairy stories.” 

She ran to the window and looked out. 

“Doesn’t it smell heavenly! The pear tree blossom 
looks like silver in the rain. It’s raining harder than 
ever. Oh!” 

Copper Top had joined her and so had the swallows. 

“Oh, Copper Top! Oh, Copper Top! The darlings! 
Oh, look at them!” 

“They’ve got a row of nests under the eaves.” 

“Oh, that one nearly touched my face!” 

The young eager voices came back to the Professor. 
He smiled, then a little shadow of sadness passed across 
his face. He had watched the swallows and their nests 
with Margot long ago. How long ago. From that 
very window; as these children were watching them now. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


263 


Margot had just such a small fair head with waves of 
silken hair. Words of Copper Top’s came into his mind. 
Curious words. “Everything is always there.” He 
wondered. Did the past inevitably become the future, 
as the future must inevitably become the past? Were 
they in the end one whole? Why . . . why of course . . . 

“Kathleen says tea is ready.” Ishtar slipped her hand 
into his and pulled. “There are scones. Scones, with 
cream and jam.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I visited Kathleen in the kitchen before I 
came in here. We hugged each other and cried. I be¬ 
lieve we cried into the scones! If they taste too salt 
you will know it is because of our tears. Oh, there is 
the dear old teapot!” 

The Professor poured tea out of it in high glee. The 
children sat one on each side of him. Kathleen hovered 
round like some small grey moth, bringing in fresh 
dainties. The scented logs flamed on the hearth. Birds 
flew in and out and boldly pecked crumbs from the 
table. The sunshine and the rain came and went. Curi¬ 
ously the old sense of freedom—of escape—came back to 
Ishtar. Only now it came as a feeling of glorious care¬ 
lessness. An absurd desire seized her to run and shout, 
although she sat there so still with her eyes shining, her 
face rosy and radiant as a cloud at dawn, and ate scones 
and cream and jam and looked at Copper Top. He 
hadn’t altered a bit. Only grown up. She liked his 
smile and his laugh and the quick easy grace with which 
he moved. She liked his fine capable hands and the clear 
brown of his skin. She liked the radiant atmosphere 
that surrounded him. She seemed to catch rays of it. 
She was not disappointed. He was still the Boy she had 
dreamed of, the Boy who had meant Freedom. 


264 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


They went out together when tea was over. The 
Professor declined to go with them. He watched their 
swiftly moving figures disappear with kind eyes and his 
beard curved at an acute angle. 

"It’s good to be young,” he thought. “We are not 
young long or often enough. And nobody understands 
how to be young, except the boy.” 

“We will go and watch for Rainbows,” said Copper 
Top to Ishtar. 

They went through the garden into the wood. The 
air was incredibly sweet. They drew in great breaths 
of it. 

“Oh, isn’t it good! Isn’t it good!” Ishtar cried. 

The sun had struggled once more through the clouds 
and was driving them eastward in masses of grey and 
gold, clearing great spaces of vivid blue. Everything 
sprang into light and song. It was like the first 
morning. 

“Quick!” said Copper Top. “Run, or we shall miss 
the Rainbow.” 

They raced along the rain-drenched, sun-washed glade, 
light and shade glanced everywhere, the scented air 
stirred the blood to ecstasy, the birds sang in full-throated 
chorus above the humming harmony of smaller winged 
things. 

“You can run faster!” 

“I have trained. At school, and with Don. I love 
it. . . . Oh, this is up hill! I can’t go so fast. . . .” 

He turned and moved backwards up the narrow path, 
smiling down at her. 

“Ah, you can go backwards still! I wish I could.” 

“Why can’t you? You haven’t tried.” 

He caught her hands and swung her up and round. 
She landed lightly on her feet above him facing him. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


265 


They both laughed, another glad note in the great chorus. 
She tried to run backwards, succeeded for a minute, 
then stumbled and would have fallen but for his hands. 
He caught her, tossed her lithe body up in the air, and 
let her fall again on her feet. It was dancing! Glorious 
dancing! Out with the sun and the air, to the music of 
all the world. 

Then they caught hands and ran side by side, up 
again, up and up. It was like moving with the wind, 
she thought. 

“Quick!” cried Copper Top again. “Here it comes!” 

They scrambled through some bushes. The branches 
drenched them with a shower-bath of fragrant drops. 

“They’ve grown since I was here last,” said Copper 
Top. “You don’t mind?” 

“Not a bit!” She laughed as she fought her way 
with him through the sweet wet things, and then they 
were out on a ridge of the hill. The woods fell away 
below them. Tier on tier beneath spring’s magic veil, 
down swept the whole mass of soft and exquisite colour 
into the valley, then rose again, sinking and soaring, fold 
after fold, ever fainter and more mysterious, until it met 
and blended with the driven glory of the clouds. 

Even as they looked, the sun burst forth in full triumph, 
and on the instant a great rainbow flashed into being, 
spanning the wide valley with a fairy bridge of many 
colours. Below, the river, like a chain of diamonds, 
went out towards the sea. 

Everywhere was light, colour, sound, and the move¬ 
ment of creative life. 

“Copper Top”—Ishtar held his hand close—“it might 
be the beginning of the world!” 

“Don’t talk,” he answered below his breath. “Look. 
Watch.” 


266 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Ishtar waited. The old feeling crept over her that he 
was seeing things that she did not. “What is it?” she 
whispered urgently. 

“There! One passed over the violets,” Copper Top 
answered softly. “They’re everywhere to-day. Now— 
across the Rainbow. Oh, you beauty!” 

“Who? What?” asked Ishtar. “Oh, Copper Top, 
it’s as bad as the squirrels being afraid. I can’t see any¬ 
thing—only what’s there. The woods and hills, and the 
river and the rainbow. It might be a bridge for angels, 
but it isn’t.” 

Copper Top laughed a little. The disappointment that 
had momentarily clouded his face disappeared. 

“How do you know?” he asked. “You believe in 
angels, don’t you ? At least they say they do in churches, 
only their pictures aren’t right.” 

“But no one sees angels now. They only imagine them.” 

Copper Top frowned. “Don’t let’s argue. I hate 
arguing. I see things you don’t see. And in your 
inside you don’t think they are there. I’d like you to. 
Other people don’t matter. But if you don’t it can’t be 
helped.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I wonder 
why you don’t though.” 

“I’ve tried. At least I’ve tried to keep in with the 
green world and the creatures,” she replied. “I used 
to sit among the flowers at first and pray to see the 
fairies, but I never did. And I used to love the wild 
things— hard —to try and make them not afraid.” She 
laughed a little at herself, but underneath her laughter 
she was very much in earnest. “And then it all began 
to seem silly without you, and when nothing came of 
it all. But truly, in the back of me, I’ve believed in 
fairies all the time. Even when I was going in for exams 
in mathematics!” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


267 


“I think you try too hard,” pronounced Copper Top. 
“People are all much too serious, I think. They don’t 
even know how to enjoy themselves. I believe that’s 
what is the matter with everybody. Something’s the 
matter, you know. Please don’t be serious, Star. Just 
listen to the Weaving Song, and there are two blue 
butterflies among those primroses.” 

“Can you still call them, Copper Top?” 

“It’s not so easy as it used to be.” A shadow flitted 
across his face. “I’m afraid I’m getting more human 
as I grow up.” 

“But, Copper Top, it’s such a great thing to be human.” 

He shook his head, smiling down at her in his care¬ 
less way. 

“I’m different somehow. I’m more akin to the crea¬ 
tures than to the humans. I can understand what they 
are up to, but you beat me.” He became thoughtful, 
frowning a little. “I don’t understand why humans are 
so hideously cruel to everything. I don’t understand 
why you are all eternally grubbing after money, or why 
you set all your values by it. Look at that!” He swept 
an eloquent hand out towards the Wonder World be¬ 
fore them, the magic made by the radiance and the rain. 
A great heron flapped up from the river, a grey moving 
shadow among the shadows, then soared on level wings 
into the light and looked like a pair of blue wings drift¬ 
ing through gold. “How many people come out here 
to see all that? They like shop windows better. But 
if you try to imitate all that on the stage, and charge 
money to see it, everyone goes who can. And they sit 
in a hot smelly place all packed close together, and make 
a hideous noise to show that they are pleased. No, I 
don’t understand, and of course neither do you under¬ 
stand me.” 


268 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“I do. A little,” said Ishtar wistfully. 

She had taken off her mackintosh for the sun was hot. 
Now she threw it on the ground and sat down with her 
knees up and her hands clasped round them and stared 
out across the valley. She looked small and sweet and 
very fair, and the sun played in her hair, over her face, 
and found no flaw. 

Copper Top lay down on the close scented turf and 
looked at her. 

“You darling, of course you do,” he said. 

She brought her eyes back to his and they both laughed. 

The little blue butterflies came fluttering from among 
the primroses and hovered above his head and settled 
on his hair. 

“They have come,” Ishtar breathed very softly. 

It was very good to have the boy back again. He held 
out his hand and the tiny frail things flitted on to it. 

“You don’t really hate human beings, do you?” she 
asked him. “I don’t mean me and ’Dophin and Grannie 
and Don, but ‘People’ as ’Dophin calls them?” 

“Hate?” Copper Top looked up from his butterflies 
and met her eyes. There was appeal in them. “Why 
no, of course I don’t. Only when they are cruel. I 
think I do hate them then. But the other curious things 
they do they only seem to me dreadfully stupid. I just 
stare and wonder. Sometimes I wonder no end—What 
you lose. . . . It’s awful! But it doesn’t bother me. 
Everything else in the universe is so ripping . . . and 
. . . and understandable.” 

“But,” interrupted Ishtar, “man is the most wonder¬ 
ful of all created things.” 

Copper Top stared. Then he laughed. “So he is 
and no mistake!” he exclaimed. “But I guess you and 
I mean different ways.” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 269 

“Copper Top,” began Ishtar in a little rather shy 
voice. “Do you—do you believe in another life ?” 

“Another life?” He stared at her wide-eyed. “No, 
of course I don’t.” 

“Copper Top! Oh, Copper Top. I did think you 
would,” she cried, distressed. “I know the—the clever 
people don’t, not really. They only sort of pretend to 
me because it’s the right thing to believe, so they think 
women ought to believe it! And Don—Don won’t dis¬ 
cuss it with me. He just turns the conversation and 
gets away from the point. Of course I know what that 
means. And, Copper Top dear, I can’t bear to think 
that when I die it will mean the end of me, and I shall 
never see the people I love and all the beautiful world 
again—but just be wiped out—finished. It comes over 
me sometimes that perhaps it is like that and I feel so 
lost and horrible.” Her lip gave the little quiver he re¬ 
membered. “And always I’ve said to myself then that 
you believed in another life-” 

Various changes had moved across Copper Top’s face 
while she had been speaking. Now he laughed a little 
—was it unkind of him? For a second she felt it was, 
was hurt, offended. Yet the sound of his laughter was 
extraordinarily sweet, and it rippled across the valley 
into the great shafts of sunshine—just as it used to; 
then he bent forward and looked close into her eyes. 
His own were very gentle. 

“Oh, Star!” he laughed. “How could I know what 
you meant! You said ‘another’ life. But it’s all one— 
it can’t sort of stop and go out, how could it? It just 
goes on. . . . Like those rays of light, you know— 
always. Oh, Star, People can’t be so stupid as to think 
-” Then he waved a careless hand. “I don’t under¬ 
stand—but look here—if we could step out of these 




270 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

bodies you don’t surely think we should be—be wiped 
out? Of course we shouldn’t! We might find ourselves 
in the body I had once, who knows? It was more useful 
than this. We could have walked over the rainbow in 
that one—and gone out and out drifting with the clouds 
into the heart of the sun, into the heart of the sea, to 
the farthest star. You would see the fairies then and 
the great sun angels and the builders. . . .” 

He was talking now as one in a dream, his voice only 
a murmur—part of the song. As he talked Ishtar’s fears 
dropped away like the mists of the night, the golden 
light all around became a tangible thing, she could feel it 
run through her veins. She was happy. . . . 

Copper Top suddenly woke up out of his dream and 
sprang to his feet. He held out a hand and pulled her 
up too. 

“Don’t be serious,” he said, “I hate being serious. 
We will go and see the wheat growing in the fields. The 
rainbow has gone. At least,” he looked at her mis¬ 
chievously, “at least it hasn’t gone—it’s all there, only 
you can’t see it.” 

“Oh, Copper Top,” was all she could say, “I am glad!” 

He nodded, and they went through the singing, shin¬ 
ing world hand in hand laughing. 

Two hours later they found the Professor hard at 
work in his garden. He greeted them impressively. 

“Come here,” he said, and looked mysterious and in 
procession led them down the path towards the wood. 

And there, on a carpet of moss all to itself, stood one 
small dainty perfect rose-pink daffodil. Rose-pink with 
a heart of gold. 

Copper Top gave a shout. “They’ve managed it!” 
he exclaimed. “It’s jolly pretty too. It wasn’t out this 
morning.” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


271 


“Where did you get it from?” asked Ishtar. 

“Well!” said the Professor, delighted. “From—well 
—intelligent co-operation.” 

“You crossed things and shook pollen—and things 
like that,” cried Ishtar. “I do think that’s all so inter¬ 
esting. Grannie’s gardener got a wonderful new 
Auricula somehow by chance. And oh—Copper Top, 
I have found a profession for you. Growing new sorts 
of flowers—there’d be a lot of money in it—they give 
hundreds of pounds for a new bulb or plant—I’m 
sure you could do it—Oh! do take it up—it would be a 
lovely profession and I know it would pay.” 

Copper Top made a little grimace which she did not 
see because she had gone down on her knees before the 
new daffodil. She lifted up its fairy bell on to one finger. 

“You perfect little gem,” she said. “I believe it knows 
how pleased we are.” 

Copper Top forgave her, but on her way home she 
returned to the subject of his profession. 

“What are you going to be?” she asked. “You are 
nineteen. You must settle soon, mustn’t you?” 

“You are worse than ’Dophin,” sighed Copper Top. 
“He keeps on worrying about my going to Cambridge 
and you want me to settle on a profession—and I—I 
want to enjoy every single one of the hours as they pass 
—to get all there is in them—or as much as ever I can— 
and they are so wonderful, you know—there is such a 
heap one wants to get at in them—” He stopped and 
smiled at her. “You are as bad as ’Dophin!” 

“I suppose I may take that as a sort of backhanded 
compliment,” she said, smiling back. 

“Of course it is a compliment—quite a big important 
one.” 

“But what are you going to be?—you must be some- 


272 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

thing, you know. Every man must. And it’s in 
teresting to talk about—at least every other man 
thinks so—and you’ll have to decide some time, won’t 
you?” 

“Star, you are as persistent as—as a bluebottle! Let 
me think a minute.” Then he laughed. “I know! I 
know the very thing. I’ll be a vagabond!” 

He looked at her as if expecting an immediate and 
violent attack, but she bubbled over into sudden laughter. 

“I think I’d like to be one too—wouldn’t it save a 
lot of bother!” 

“I should think it would—no end! Well, if you’ll 
stick to it, I will.” 

She sighed a little, and shook her head. 

“I’d never be allowed! You see you don’t under¬ 
stand how it is with all of us. You’ve just grown up 
as you liked—or very nearly—but we—we’re all of us in 
chains, chains of the particular life into which we are 
born, and though perhaps we long sometimes for 
freedom yet it wants a lot of courage to break them. 
Sometimes I get a perfect passion to smash them up 
into little pieces.” She looked at him with drawn brows 
—puzzled—trying to explain what she felt. “And 
yet—all the time I don’t know if I really want to break 
them after all—even if I wasn’t afraid to.” 

She stopped, for they had reached the gate in the road, 
the old place where they had always said good-bye. 

“I must hurry or I shall be late,” she said. “It is 
nice to have you back, Copper Top.” 

And Copper Top bent down and kissed her where the 
little dimple came and went in her cheek, just as he used 
to do sometimes long ago on rare and wonderful 
occasions. Just a butterfly kiss. Like the touch of a 
flower. . . . 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


273 


Ishtar’s face flamed, but her eyes laughed as she ran 
down the lime avenue towards the Castle. He must not 
kiss her. Of course he must not. She would have to 
make that quite clear to him—her mother . . . her 
mother would be very angry. And Copper Top would 
be quite equal to kissing her cheerfully before every¬ 
body. She must tell him—and he would say, “Why 
not?” There was a “why not” of course. She 
would have been very angry if any other boy she knew 
had kissed her—she ought to have been angry with 
Copper Top. 

These things were very difficult to understand—they 
seemed to get tangled up somehow. And it would be 
difficult to make Copper Top understand things! But 
what a dear he was- 

She ran up the steps and into the Hall. The butler 
was progressing solemnly across it. 

“Cartwright,” she said breathlessly. “How much 
time have I got?” 

“Six minutes, Miss Helen,” said Cartwright, “six 
and a half, to be quite exact, Miss.” 



CHAPTER II 


Lady Condor was having one of her afternoon At 
Homes. The sort for which the Invitation Cards have 
“Music” written in the left hand bottom corner in 
small letters. But everyone knew that at the Mentmore 
Castle parties the music would be good. And it was 
never local talent. It came from London. This did not 
mean that Lady Condor did not patronise local talent; 
she engaged it for her London parties whenever possible, 
and it was an advertisement that Fairbridge talent ap¬ 
preciated. On the other hand the Fairbridge audiences 
undoubtedly fell that London talent and local talent were 
very different things. Moreover it was not as if Lady 
Condor gave only one party a year to which everybody 
was invited so that nobody felt it was a compliment. 
The reverse in fact. She was always giving parties, and 
very enjoyable ones too. And she entertained just as gaily 
and was just as charming to everyone whether an election 
was imminent or in the far future. 

One of the Family had sat for the Fairbridge Division 
since time immemorial i^ the Conservative interest, and 
it was looked upon, even in disturbingly democratic 
times, as a safe seat. 

“But I haven’t the moral courage to start my 
campaign directly an election seems probable,” Lady 
Condor would say to her intimate friends. “Besides, 
I enjoy entertaining, and the dear things love coming to 


274 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 275 

our parties. It is of course one of the things we are 
here for.” 

“Marion is fundamentally very sound in principle,” 
Mr. Fothersley murmured on these occasions, at which 
he always assisted. 

But now things were very different. No seat indeed 
was safe. The present Government was tottering to its 
fall, though hanging grimly, with tooth and claw, to 
office. An Election might be upon them at any moment. 
Socialism—even Bolshevism—was rife. Labour had 
issued a programme that was simply, as Mr. Fothersley 
said, insane. They all felt that the only safety lay in the 
return of a strong Conservative Party, but even in their 
stronghold disquieting things were happening every day. 

Mr. Fothersley had arrived at such a point that he was 
seriously considering whether he could conscientiously 
continue to take in the Times. Even at the Castle party 
he was visibly not himself. 

“Dear Arthur,” said Lady Condor, under cover of a 
brilliant pianoforte solo, “what is the matter? You 
look like Dam somebody sitting under his sword. A 
most uncomfortable situation. Why did he sit there? I 
forget!” 

“A very apt illustration of the situation of the country 
to-day,” returned Mr. Fothersley in the usual strident 
whisper that accompanies piano solos. “Has it really 
become necessary for you to entertain the Pitheys, 
Marion? She is silent, if impossible. But the man! 

No wonder the country is-” He waved his little 

plump hands impotently. 

“Most necessary,” repeated Lady Condor in the same 
strident key. “He is shaky in his opinions, very shaky, 
and we have nothing to offer him. Those little things 
that used to carry so much weight don’t influence a cer- 


276 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


tain sort of these people. It will not do any good even 
asking him here, and poor Hawkhurst making himself 
agreeable—or trying to. Look at him, poor dear.” 
Lady Condor giggled irrepressibly. “But it might do 
harm not to ask him, you know. Dear Arthur, do try 
and not look as if you were taking a dose of Rhubarb 
Magnesia. If you insist on this being a sort of Marie 
Antoinette party, under the shadow of the guillotine 
you know, at any rate let us do the thing properly. I 
am sure I remember they all smiled and looked as if 

they liked it- There now! Monsieur Dubloc is 

finishing up and I haven’t heard a note. Where is my 
programme—I had it a moment ago—oh there it is— 
um—ah—oh yes. Lovely, lovely, Monsieur! The last 
time I heard it played was by Schultz—in Paris—or was 
it Vienna—but there is something in your rendering 


She billowed away with the delighted artist, saying the 
right thing by a miracle as usual, and Mr. Fothersley 
gathered himself valiantly together and began one of 
his little tours among the guests, anchoring for refresh¬ 
ment by his particular crony, Mrs. Roger North, who 
was looking charmingly pretty in a new frock which he 
had helped to select, and who agreed forcibly with every 
thing he said about the Pitheys, was equally convinced 
with himself that the country was going to the dogs, 
that the lower classes must be taught, and that the only 
hope for the Empire lay in the restoration of the old 
Conservative Party to power. 

Ishtar and Copper Top were sitting on the sill of one 
of the big windows. She had her feet inside and he had 
his feet outside, and they seemed to be enjoying them¬ 
selves very much. 

Lady Condor was making an inspection through her 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


277 


lorgnettes to see if all her guests were happily arranged. 
She wondered how long it would be before dear Connie 
interfered. She was in the tea-room now, but she would 
certainly come back for Carlotta Johan’s song. . . . 

“Are they enjoying themselves?” asked Copper Top. 
He looked like some inquisitive and rather mischievous 
bird, Ishtar thought, with bright eyes taking everything 
in, but poised for instant flight if necessary. 

“Of course they are,” she answered, and then 
wondered. Were they? 

Yes, they must be—they were all talking hard. 

Copper Top poked his bright head around the curtain 
a little further into the room. Bits of conversation de¬ 
tached themselves from the hum and buzz for a minute 
at a time then fell into it again and were lost. A 
feathered bonnet and a flowered hat were nid-nodding 
just below him. 

“Of course there are very extraordinary people in 
Fairbridge,” said the bonnet. 

“But in these democratic days so long as people are 
pleasant ...” said the hat. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Copper Top, “There is the man who 
looks like a raven especially from behind—what do you 
call him?” 

“The Archdeacon you mean . . .” 

“Yes, that’s it. He is looking this way. Don’t let 
him ask me if I know my Catechism, because I 
don’t-” 

“I do,” said Ishtar, “I think. At least all but my duty 
to my neighbour . . .” 

“I am not one to tittle-tattle,” said the hat con¬ 
fidentially, “But when she actually fell down in the street 
of course one knew ...” 

The rest of the sentence was drowned by a voice that 



278 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

detached itself from the others, speaking with author¬ 
ity. 

“Miss Chromy will be the secretary of course . . 
The rest of the sentence was drowned in a burst of 
laughter from the group of ladies surrounding the 
Archdeacon, in which he joined with great heartiness. 
He was moving about making himself generally agree¬ 
able. Indeed a little remark he had once heard about 
himself was running pleasantly through his mind: 
“The life and soul of the party. The life and soul of 
the party.” 

“I think I must ask you my riddle, Mrs. Bunbury. 

But I hope it won’t shock you—ha! ha!-’’ 

After she had appreciated the riddle Mrs. Bunbury 
pointed out the two figures in the window to him. 

“Who is the young fellow with Helen?’’ she asked. 
“I can’t place him at all. Is he one of the family? They 
seem on intimate terms.” 

The Archdeacon was interested. He could not place 
the young fellow either. 

A good-looking boy. His wife probably would know. 
The face seemed familiar. He made his way with a 
joke and smile here and there towards the “purple 
vestment and crest of flame” which betokened Mrs. 
Pinniger’s whereabouts. 

Mrs. Pinniger watched his approach with pleasure. 
What a fine looking man he was. And what a charming 
manner he had. 

“Well, dear,” she said when he reached her, and 
beamed. 

A footman approached with cups full of tea on a large 
silver tray, followed by another carrying scones and 
cakes. 

The Archdeacon poured as much cream as would go 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


279 


into two cups, sugared them liberally, and discussed with 
his wife which of the many little cakes looked the most 
inviting. 

“All so delicious,” said Mrs. Pinniger. “Which are 
you taking, Mrs. Tummons?” 

“I think, my dear,” said the Archdeacon, “I ought 
to ask Mrs. Tummons my riddle, don't you? Or do you 
think it will shock her? Ha! ha!” 

Mrs. Tummons protested, then she insisted, and the 
Archdeacon asked his riddle. Other surrounding ladies 
listened; there was much laughter. “The life and soul 
of the party.” 

Having thus done his duty by Mrs. Tummons the 
Archdeacon bent towards his wife, lowered his voice and 
inclined his head towards the window. 

“Who is the young fellow—talking to Helen Moresby 
—yes, in the window. Not one of the family I don't 
think, yet his face is familiar.” 

“I've been asking everybody,” Mrs. Pinniger 
whispered back. “No one seems to know. You might 
perhaps just . . .” 

She looked at the Archdeacon meaningly and he nodded 
in understanding and agreement. Then he made his way 
towards the window. 

“Let's go,” said Copper Top. 

“No, no!” Ishtar stopped him. “He knows we've 
seen him. He caught my eye. Besides, he's really rather 
an old dear . . .” 

“Ah, Miss Helen! I’ve come across to ask you my 
riddle.” 

The Archdeacon shook hands and looked at Copper 
Top. 

Ishtar introduced him. 

“Of course!” exclaimed the Archdeacon. “Your face 


28o 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


was quite familiar, I knew. But you young people 
grow up so quickly. And Professor Godolphin? How 
is he? Not here to-day, I suppose, amongst we merry¬ 
makers?” 

Copper Top stared. Merry-makers? Everyone was 
eating and drinking and talking with their mouths full. 
The feathered hat was saying “An enormous tumour. 
Yes. I believe it weighed . . .” 

“Do tell us your riddle,” Ishtar interposed deftly, and 
smiled at the Archdeacon. He noticed her likeness to her 
grandmother. 

“You are quite sure I shan’t shock you?” he asked, 
beaming. “Well then, if a young man wants to kiss his 
young woman-” 

They had not noticed that someone was playing the 
piano, but now a voice rose above the hum and buzz 
of the many voices and began to silence them. The 
Archdeacon paused in his riddle and held up his hand 
to impose silence. It was one of those little ways in 
which you could help your hostess. Copper Top leant 
forward again. 

“Ah!” he said softly. 

The voice was a contralto, rich and very pure in 
quality, but the first notes quivered. The singer was 
palpably nervous. Her little plain face looked strained 
to breaking point. It seemed to Copper Top it might 
break up into shivers at any moment. Across the closely 
packed hats sprinkled with bald heads, above the 
inquisitive faces her eyes met his. He smiled his wide 
cheerful smile and her voice steadied. She got to the 
end of the first verse and he called out “Bravo.” Ishtar 
wished he would not do that sort of thing. But after 
it there was no question as to the success of the song. 
The little plain girl sang better and better. Ishtar 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


281 


noticed the poor home-made attempt at an up-to-date 
frock that she wore. Her strings of dreadful beads. 
Her cheap patent leather shoes and white lisle-thread 
stockings. The whole poor little pitiful attempt to be 
fashionable, and the pathos of it came home to her. 

Copper Top was clapping vigorously and calling 
“Bravo” again. The Archdeacon joined in. 

“I don’t think much of her voice, dear, do you?” 
^whispered the bonnet shrilly, but she clapped a little 
feebly. So did the other ladies. 

“It must be like singing into a feather bed,” said 
Copper Top. “Poor little thing, I expect it’s her first 
chance too.” 

He slipped over the window-sill and made his way 
down the room. People stared at him. He looked 
vaguely out of place in spite of his easy grace of move¬ 
ment. Who was he ? Everyone asked. The Archdeacon 
moved from group to group, leaving interested gossipers 
behind him. Copper Top introduced himself to the 
little group of artists round the piano. 

“Thank you ever so much,” he said to the girl, “We 
all enjoyed that.” 

Then he turned to M. Dubloc, and M. Dubloc, half 
Frenchman, half Jew, and wholly out of sympathy with 
his audience, wondered greatly where this radiantly vital 
lad had sprung from. The next moment he was talking 
French to him. The whole place seemed suddenly gay. 
They laughed and chattered together. He knew France, 
Italy, all the places of the earth where M. Dubloc was at 
home. They talked of form and colour in music. M. 
Dubloc told of his troubles of the afternoon. His tenor 
had failed at the last minute—he had only female voices 
and himself, pianist. He feared milady would be disap¬ 
pointed with the concert party provided. 


0 


282 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Copper Top looked round and an imp of mischief 
~ seized him. They were all munching and talking again. 

“I’ll sing for you,” he said, and promptly sat down 
at the piano. 

M. Dubloc suffered an agony. 

“Mais, Monsieur . . . Monsieur . . .” he stammered 
in horror. The young man without doubt was only an 
amateur, most probably bad at that. . . . What would 
milady think. . . . Copper Top nodded at him with 
understanding. 

“It's all right,” he said confidentially. 

Then he took possession of the piano and in a moment 
M. Dubloc knew that it was a master hand upon the 
keys. 

Then he sang, and he had a wonder of a voice. Every¬ 
one looked startled, almost afraid. This ecstasy of song 
that flooded the room—what was it? It began joyously 
like the morning song of birds, grew soft and tender so 
that your heart sang with it, then rose and rose on wings 
of wonder, was carried on away to some lofty region 
of unspeakable sweetness, exquisitely painfully sweet— 
if it rose one note higher it would be unbearable- 

Ishtar stretched out both her hands. She must stop it 
—she could not bear it—almost she called out. She 
slipped her legs over the window-sill, and moved out 
blindly into the garden with the tears running down her 
cheeks. 

The spring world was radiant in the sunlight. The 
green life shone. If one could get there—where the 
song had gone. . . . Life was so infinitely good—so full 
of magic possibilities. If one had the courage ... if 
one was not afraid. . . . There was a sound of quick 
steps on the gravel pathway. A man came round the 
corner of the house and almost ran into her. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


283 


“Izzy!” he cried. “Why, what’s the matter?” 

She looked up at him, brushed the tears from her eyes 
and laughed. 

“Don! We did not expect you till the next train! 
Don’t look so fierce!” 

“Who has been making you cry?” 

“Nobody. It was a song.” 

Don received the explanation without comment. He 
disliked music himself, though he sometimes made a 
manful effort to understand something about the beastly 
thing for reasons of his own. She was glad to see him. 
There was something reliable and comfortably substantial 
about Don. He never sprung surprises on you, or made 
you suspect a world of wonder close at hand which you 
could not reach. It was always plain sailing with Don. 
And he wasn’t dull either. He didn’t bore you. He was 
just comfortable and nice and uncommonly good to look 
at. 

“Do you want tea?” she asked. “No? Then let’s 
go as far as the rose-garden and back and tell our news. 
I’m tired of the party.” 

She slipped her hand through his arm. She would 
not tell him it was Copper Top singing that had made 
her cry. The song was over now. The audience had 
begun to clap in the half-hearted way Fairbridge 
audiences did clap. A wonderful voice, but they were not 
quite sure that they liked the song. Various comments 
detached themselves from the buzz of conversation. 

“The new school of music,” said Mrs. Bunbury. “I 
confess it does not appeal to me.” 

“Rather—rather—what is the word I want?” mur¬ 
mured Mrs. Pinniger. 

“Theatrical,” suggested Mrs. Tummons. “What do 
you think, Miss Chromy?” 


284 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


‘‘Theatrical? Yes, perhaps you are right/’ Miss 
Chromy hesitated. She had thought the song most 
beautiful, so beautiful that she had forgotten to keep 
her feet hidden. Her new shoes were painful these first 
hot days, and she was wearing her shabby ones. Had 
anyone noticed them? 

“Theatrical?” she repeated, “perhaps that was it. A 
little too emotional.” 

“I confess I always like to be able to follow the 
words,” said Mrs. Pinniger. “It was in Italian I think, 
which I do not understand.” 

“Perhaps that was just as well,” remarked Mrs. 
Bunbury meaningly, and sniffed. “One knows the style 
of thing!” 

“I wonder what the Archdeacon thought of it,” said 
Mrs. Pinniger. 

She half stood up and looked round, and as she did 
so his voice rose above the rest of the voices. He was 
asking another lady his riddle. “If a young man wishes 
to kiss his young woman what newspapers does he men¬ 
tion?” There was much laughter. She felt it was not 
a moment to disturb him. 

“We will ask him presently,” she said. 

And just at that moment Lady Condor, who felt her 
parties much as a doctor feels his patient’s pulse, said to 
M. Dubloc: 

“I wonder if Miss Mavis would sing ‘The Lost Chord’ 
for her next song. It is such a favourite always . . . 
yes.” 

“You did not like Monsieur’s song, milady?” asked 
M. Dubloc anxiously. 

“Like it! It was wonderful! But it was too wonder- 
full. It got through to that funny innermost thing, you 
know what I mean, that is nearly always asleep. And 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


285 


of course that is very disturbing. One never knows quite 
what it would do if it really woke up, does one ? It might 
upset all one's ideas of everything, mightn’t it? I always 
think that’s why people are so frightened of—of any¬ 
thing of that sort, you know. But ‘The Lost Chord’ 
will put them all comfortably to sleep again. It is so 
soothing to certain temperaments. Just like ‘Land of 
Hope and Glory’ when we are feeling patriotic.” 

‘‘They eat ices,” observed M. Dubloc, eyeing his 
audience gloomily. 

‘‘Yes. After the ices. And you and I, let us go and get 
a cup of coffee, and you will give me your opinion of the 
boy’s singing. I did not even know he did sing . . 

M. Dubloc explained how the thing had happened. 
The coffee was excellent, Lady Condor was most delight¬ 
ful. He opened his heart to her. 

“Milady, these audiences such as you have here to-day, 
they break the heart of the artist. He cannot let himself 
go, as you say. It gaves them fright. There must be 
no emotion, only the sugared water. The emotion of the 
Religion even, it gives them fright. And if you turn 
yourself over and over to move their hearts, in my country 
they give you a furore, but here they make applause as 
if it were not correct to do.” 

“But in London it is better, isn’t it?” said Lady Condor 
sympathetically. “Now you will have a liqueur ... ?” 

“I thank you very much. And the gentleman who 
sang, of what nationality is he?” asked M. Dubloc. 

And it suddenly struck Lady Condor for the first time 
that they did not even know what Copper Top’s nation¬ 
ality was. Presumably he was English, but certainly it 
was possible that he was not. 

“The language of his song, it is one I am not acquainted 
with,” M. Dubloc continued. 


286 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“We will ask him,” said Lady Condor, and looked 
round through her glasses to discover Copper Top sitting 
at a table in the far corner by the conservatory eating 
peaches with the little frightened singer. 

She had confided to him that her real name was 
Matilda Puffin, but it was not a good professional name 
so she called herself Muriel Mavis. It was her first 
engagement and she had nearly died of nervousness, but 
now another time she would not mind. She lived at 
Highgate in one room with another girl. The other 
girl wrote stories for the Family Herald. They both 
worked frightfully hard, and meant to be famous one 
day, but at present they had only £2 a week between 
them to live on. It had been very difficult while she was 
getting her training, but now . . . 

“You see getting into M. Dubloc’s Concert Party is 
a big stroke of luck for me,” she said. “And coming 
to a place like this. These peaches are good, aren’t 
they? I suppose they’ve hot-houses here?” 

“Have another,” said Copper Top. “Or would you 
like to come and see the hot-houses ?” 

She stared at him, round-eyed. 

“I’d love it!” she said. “But perhaps I’d better not. 

I shall be wanted to sing again in a minute. It’s awfully 
nice of you to want me to.” 

A whole romance had sprung up complete and perfect 
in her mind. You did hear of these things. The story. 
Madge was writing now . . . And he was being nice 
to her. 

“Do you belong here?” she asked breathlessly, while 
wonderful visions rose and made the world glorious. 

“Oh no!” he said smiling, and it seemed somehow, if 
it had been possible, that he was glad he didn’t. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 287 

“Then are you—are you one of us? A professional I 
mean?” she asked. 

Other visions crossed her mind almost equally wonder¬ 
ful. Clara Butt and Kennerly Rumford . . . 

He was so handsome too. His eyes were simply 
lovely. 

“No,” he answered again, and put another peach on 
her plate. 

“But you could be. You could be famous.” 

“Yes,” said Copper Top carelessly. And he didn’t care, 
it was quite evident he didn’t care, not one bit. He was 
the most extraordinary person she had ever met. But if 

The melody of his song came back to her, mingled 
curiously with the scent of the Marechal Niel roses from 
the conservatory, with his smiling beautiful face. Her 
eyes filled with tears. 

“Lady Condor is waving. I think she wants me,” Cop¬ 
per Top said. “Will you come too?” 

“Oh no,” she shrank back and looked frightened. “I 
couldn’t.” 

“You’d rather stay and eat peaches.” He smiled and 
nodded at her as he went away. It was extraordinary. 
Everyone was always afraid of something. 

Poor little Muriel Mavis, whose real name was Matilda 
Puffin, watched him go and felt her Castle in the Air 
come tumbling down all round her. She was a fool. 
But these sort of things did happen to some lucky people. 
Quite plain people too. She ate her peach and built the 
Castle up again. It couldn’t come true, but it was lovely 
building it. And presently she went back to the other 
room and sang “The Lost Chord,” and felt comforted. 
There was a good time coming some time, somehow, 
somewhere. 


288 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Copper Top made his way down the long room between 
the little tea-tables, and Lady Condor watched him come. 
No, he did not look English, but then neither did he look 
of any other nationality. He only looked different. Per¬ 
haps it was his dress; he was wearing an uncommonly 
well-cut suit of white flannels with a white silk shirt, and 
of course that made a difference among black coats and 
grey trousers and stiff collars. Really men’s clothes were 
very ugly—and on a hot day rather ridiculous. How did 
they bear them in hot weather—only it was so seldom 
hot—except last year. But what nationality was Cop¬ 
per Top? The Scotch gipsies—but no, of course not. 
He looked exceptionally well-bred. Rather rarely 
bred . . . 

From what green land of wonder did he come? But 

why green-? What had put that word into her head ? 

Ireland-? 

“You wanted me?” asked Copper Top in his simple 
direct way, standing before her. 

Lady Condor came out of her speculations and sat up 
with extreme suddenness, scattering everything she had 
in her lap on to the floor. 

“Oh dear,” she exclaimed comically, “and I do try so 
hard not to drop everything about. Tarzan, we want to 
know the name of your song and who wrote it.” 

Copper Top’s face wrinkled mischievously for a mo¬ 
ment, then “Oh, it’s the sort of song that’s everywhere,” 
he said carelessly, and put all her possessions back in her 
lap. 

“You were extemporising, Monsieur!” exclaimed M. 
Dubloc. 

“Well, more or less,” smiled Copper Top. “You 
see,” he added, answering the bewilderment in the 
little Frenchman’s face, “I seem to hear more than 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 289 

most people do. There’s such a lot of singing in 
the world.” 

“But—but—it is a fortune to you—it is Fame!” M. 
Dubloc waved both hands in the effort to explain to this 
careless young man the magnitude of the gift which was 
his. “If you will allow me to arrange a concert for you 
—in London.” 

“But I don’t sing ‘in public’ as you call it,” said Copper 
Top, “I don’t care for it. It spoils it so. And I don’t 
like People all massed up in lumps. I just sang to-day 
because you wanted someone to fill up.” 

“But you have a fortune in your voice,” expostulated 
M. Dubloc, “and you would make a name for yourself— 
a name. Mon Dieu! It is not a bagatelle, Monsieur— 
to be like a Caruso, a Chaliapin! It is to be Great. It 
is to be Rich.” 

“I don’t want to be Great, and I don’t want any more 
money,” said Copper Top patiently. 

“But what do you want, Tarzan?” asked Lady Con¬ 
dor, while M. Dubloc waved hands of amazement. “The 
fairies have given you all the gifts, and you don’t want 
any of them. What do you want?” 

“The fairies’ gifts,” echoed Copper Top, and laughed. 
His laughter danced above the buzzy voices. “Why, you 
can’t want what you have, you know.” 

“Can’t you want what you have?” asked Lady Con¬ 
dor doubtfully. “I don’t believe you can, now I 
come to think about it. But surely it is one of the 
greatest interests in life wanting things. What, dear 
Connie? M. Dubloc is wanted for the accompaniment? 
We will all go.” 

She rose and took her daughter-in-law’s arm. 

M. Dubloc extracted a card from his pocket. “It may 
be one day you will alter your mind,” he said. “If you 


290 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


do, I shall be very glad to have the honour of bringing 
your voice before the public. It is a wonderful gift that 
you have,” he added wistfully. Why were such gifts 
bestowed on those who had no use for them, he wondered, 
as he hurried after Lady Condor. 

Copper Top secreted the card under many others on the 
card-tray in the hall. It was an extraordinary world. 
Everyone, even the artists and the poets, were all busy 
making money, and when they had made it they spent it 
on such curious things! He wondered where Ishtar was. 
She had coaxed him to the party; she and Lady Condor 
and the Professor. What dear things People could be. 
But what a hideous, wearisome, choking mess they made 
of everything. He stood in the great porch of the old 
Castle and meditated flight. The West Highland pack 
found and greeted him with enthusiasm. Then Ishtar and 
Don came strolling back from the rose garden. Copper 
Top looked and loved them. They were a goodly and 
satisfying couple to look at. But one of the swift 
shadows that sometimes dimmed his radiant face crossed 
over it as he looked. Would they too become . . . ? He 
tossed the thought away. It was like People. Spoiling 
everything, by anticipating sad and unpleasant things. 
Ishtar’s frock was just right. It looked what it should be, 
the sheath of a flower. He sped with the dogs across the 
green lawn to greet them, and they met with mirth and 
laughter under the beech trees, and were exceedingly glad 
to be together again. 

“I can’t stay,” said Ishtar. “It is nearly six o’clock. 
I must go in and stand in the hall and say good-bye to 
everybody. But you won’t go.” She looked at Copper 
Top entreatingly. “You won’t take Don away. It is so 
long since we three were together, and we must make 
plans. We must not waste a minute of our time. Don 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


291 


is only here for two days on”—she dimpled prettily— 
“urgent private affairs.” 

“She wired me to come,” explained Don, and grinned. 

“All right, Izzy, you go and do your manners. We 
will have a look round the stables, and wait for you.” 

“The Lost Chord” was drawing to its triumphant 
close when Ishtar slipped in at one of the French 
windows. “It may be that only in Heaven I shall hear 
that grand Amen.” 

The applause was really quite cordial, almost 
enthusiastic. 

“A lovely, lovely song I always think,” said Mrs. 
Pinniger. The crumbs fell off her lap in a little shower 
on the carpet as she rose and looked round for the 
Archdeacon. It was time to make a move. Ah! there 
was his handsome head in the doorway. He was talking 
to Helen Moresby. His fine voice rose above the bustle 
of departing guests. 

“Why, I haven’t told you the answer to my riddle 
yet, Miss Helen. Ha! Ha! Well ... if you can’t 
guess it ... No Observers, no Spectators, but as many 
Times,” he shook a facetious forefinger in Ishtar’s face, 
“as many Times as you like!” 

What fun he was, and what a godsend to a hostess at 
a party. 

Mrs. Pinniger said so to him as they drove home 
through the pleasant spring evening in a hired car. 

“A delightful party, dear, and its success largely due, 
I think, to your efforts.” 

“Well, well, one is bound to try and help to make 
things go!” said the Archdeacon, and smiled at her. 

“There was one thing, though-” Mrs. Pinniger 

hesitated. “I know you do not like the repetition of 
gossip, dear . . . still perhaps . . .” 



292 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Perhaps I had better know,” agreed the Archdeacon 
with resignation. “Well, what is it now?” 

“About Professor Godolphin’s young . . . Really, 
dear, I hardly know what to call him! He is not a ward , 
and adopted son at once leads to ... to just the talk that 
took place this afternoon.” 

“Exactly,” said the Archdeacon. 

“Of course you always said he had been most unwise 
in giving the boy his own name.” 

“It was bound to lead to talk,” declared the Arch¬ 
deacon. “Bound to. And what particular form is the 
talk taking?” 

“Everyone is convinced that the young man is the 
Professor’s natural son. Most distressing,” said Mrs. 
Pinniger, and looked distressed. “And there was a good 
deal of comment on the Condors accepting him in the 
way they have, and in allowing him to be on intimate 
terms with their young people, especially Helen.” 

“There would be,” said the Archdeacon. “It is only 
natural. Dear Lady Condor . . . well, one is never 
astonished at anything. But I should have thought the 
Hawkhursts . . .” 

“Yes, that is just what I thought. And Helen did 
make herself rather. . . rather conspicuous with the 
young man. You know somehow, dear, I cannot bring 
myself to call him young James Godolphin.” 

“No,” said the Archdeacon. “It doesn’t seem . . ” 

He stopped, and there was a pause. Mrs. Pinniger 
looked at her husband. He was frowning at the chauf¬ 
feur’s back. 

“You know . . .” she began, and stopped too. 

“My dear,” said the Archdeacon, “let us always believe 
the best of everybody. Professor Godolphin stated that 
he found a deserted baby in the forest and adopted it. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


293 


We are bound to believe his word until it is proved to be 
untrue. Make that statement firmly if you hear any more 
of this talk.” 

“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Pinniger. But it was very 
difficult not to think . . . what did Matthew really think 
? 

She dared not ask him. 


CHAPTER III 


“I do think it’s rotten that you won’t learn to play 
games,” said Ishtar. 

That she used the present-day all-descriptive adjective 
of the rising generation showed the intensity of her feel¬ 
ings. 

Copper Top did not answer. He was lying flat on his 
stomach on the edge of the cliff watching the sea-gulls 
rocking on the still blue water far below. The blue was 
wonderful. If all colour were translucent ... It was 
. . . somewhere . . . 

Ishtar was sitting on a big loose chunk of rock, swing¬ 
ing a pair of exquisite feet exquisitely shod. Don lay on 
the short turf beside her and watched them swing. Near 
at hand their horses cropped the sweet grass. The larks 
were singing like things joy-mad in the clear light high 
above. The wind blew soft and fresh from inland over 
the new-turned earth, and the springing grass met the 
salt sweetness of the sea and sang with the sun and the 
larks. 

“You might be first class,” said Don lazily. “You’re 
so jolly quick with your eye and hand.” 

“Copper Top!” Ishtar poked him with the tickling end 
of a long piece of grass. “Do you hear?” 

Copper Top rolled over on to his back and looked up 
with unwinking eyes into the immense blue above. There 
were three larks. How the little beggars were singing. 
It was a wonderful world. . . . He turned and laid his 
cheek against the warm turf and looked at Ishtar. 


294 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


2 95 

“Bluebottle! It is a wicked moment to choose to buzz,” 
he said. 

“I won’t be called a bluebottle. They are hateful 
things,” protested Ishtar. 

“They do worry you,” grinned Copper Top. “Why, 
oh why, should you want me to play games when I don’t 
want to?” 

“They would be good for you,” said Ishtar priggishly. 

Copper Top made a face and addressed his next ques¬ 
tion to the wide world. “Why are People always trying 
to make other People do what they think good for them ? 
It is an unpleasant habit.” 

“If you don’t go in for sport, or play games, you feel 
rather out of it, you know,” said Don. 

“I expect I was born ‘out of it,’ ” said Copper Top. 
“Do let’s sing or shout or do anything except talk of 
what is good for us.” 

Ishtar drew her tickle grass round the curve of his 
jaw and chin. It was a very beautiful curve, and she 
went on all down the line of his strong bare throat. Then 
she smiled very suddenly and sweetly. 

“The real truth is, you know, that I want you to 
play games so that you can play with me,” she said softly. 
“It’s no fun if one’s friends don’t do the same things.” 

“I won’t be intimidated,” groaned Copper Top. “How 
could you expect me to spend an afternoon like this hit¬ 
ting a ball backwards and forwards for hours, trying to 
prevent someone hitting it back to me?” 

“But you ought to do things to please other people,” 
insisted Ishtar. 

“Ought to?” asked Copper Top. “I’m not a bit sure 
that’s a good reason for doing things.” 

Ishtar transferred her attentions with the tickle grass 
to the top of Don’s smooth brown head. 


296 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Anyway Don does things to please me,” she said, 
“or where would I be at all at all, as Kate says.” 

“Old Don is a humbug,” said Copper Top. “He pre¬ 
tends to like things because you do. People are always 
pretending. That’s all right if you can’t get the real 
thing, but when you can, it’s just silly.” 

“Can one get what one really wants ?” asked Ishtar wist¬ 
fully. 

“If you know what it is,” said Copper Top. “Why 
not?” 

“Let’s all say what we want most in the world,” ex¬ 
claimed Ishtar, and there was a little silence. 

“Well, we all want the same thing, I suppose,” said 
Ishtar at length. “We all want to have a good time—to 
be happy-” 

“Then,” said Copper Top with his little air of careless 
patience, “why don’t you? It’s easy to be happy, if that’s 
all you want.” 

Don and Ishtar looked at him and smiled indulgently. 
This was one of the foolish things that Copper Top some¬ 
times said. Everyone knows perfectly well that to be 
happy is one of the most difficult things in the world. 
A thing everyone pursued and only captured very 
occasionally for brief periods. Don knew what would 
make him happy—happy beyond all dreams. His fine 
clean body shivered as he thought of it. He looked away 
to the light beyond the blue distances of space, his serene, 
sweet-tempered face lit by the thought within. 

Ishtar’s eyes were on the blue distances too. A thought 
stirred in her mind as in his, but she could give it no 
name. She could not express it in words. It was only 
a strange awareness of something she did not understand. 
A longing and an unrest, an elation that was sweet and 
exciting, and stirred within her like the flutter of a bird’s 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


297 

wings. She wanted something, but she did not know 
what it was. 

“I do not know what I want most in the world,” she 
declared. 

She looked at Don, but he did not look at her. He was 
making discoveries, and he dared not look at her. She 
turned to Copper Top, who was lying on his back again 
with the sun shining full into his unwinking eyes. 

“Copper Top,” she said, “what do you want most in 
the world?” 

“I want,” he spoke dreamily, “I want to weave some 
of the music stuff into a song. There’s heaps of it here. 
Wonderful stuff.” 

Ishtar bent forward. “Oh, Copper Top, sing to us,” she 
whispered. “Wait. We’ll be very quiet. Sing to us.” 

And presently Copper Top sat up and sang. And the 
music of his song was wild as the song of a bird, and 
sweeter far than any she had ever heard. A mad sweet¬ 
ness that struck some chord of her being and shivered 
it into pieces, in passionate pain. Yet the song was holy, 
there were solemn notes in it, and they were the sweetest 
of all, notes that trod some hidden path, austere, with¬ 
held. 

Then suddenly the whole song came falling, falling, 
as from an immense height, from very far off, through 
the gold and blue and the song of the larks, till it fell all 
around them in a shower of gay and glad notes, and it 
seemed to Ishtar they fell into her heart and sang there. 

Don stood up with a swift movement and looked across 
the sea. The song had come perilously near to putting 
his feelings into words. He felt curiously shy as if 
something had been unveiled. He did not understand 
music. It was a queer thing though, how odd it could 
make you feel. 


298 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


There was a big steamer drifting shadow-like through 
the light on the far horizon. Somehow he was pleased to 
see it. 

“A liner/’ he murmured to himself. 

There was a little silence, then Ishtar looked at Copper 
Top. 

“To be able to make a song like that—that is to be 
happy?” she asked. 

“Why yes,” he said. 

“Copper Top, what did you mean by music stuff?” 

“Why, the stuff you make music of.” 

“Make music of?” 

“Well, you must make it of something, mustn’t you?” 

“I don’t know. At least I never thought. Music 
comes to some people. But I never heard anybody call 
it stuff before.” 

“It’s an ugly word,” said Copper Top. “So is material, 
and so is matter. But you haven’t got any others.” 

“How do you make music of it?” 

“It is music. You must weave it into any pattern you 
like. The better you can weave, the lovelier patterns you 
make. I made a lovely one just now,” added Copper Top 
simply. “Why are you digging up that tuft of grass?” 

Ishtar desisted. “I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking. 
Why do you see things we don’t ?” 

“I don’t know why. I wish you did. It would be 
wonderful, wouldn’t it? We could build things together. 
You can fashion better things together than by yourself.” 

He sat up and looked at her with eyes that were blue 
as the sea, as clear and deep and unfathomable. He 
seemed part of the sun and the sea, and the light that 
came from both. He was making discoveries too, but 
he was not in the least shy about it. And suddenly she 
was afraid. She was glad when Don came back to them 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


299 

and looked down at her with his little masterful air of 
protection and possession. 

“The wind is getting chilly, Izzy,” he said. “You had 
better not sit here too long. Let’s walk to the point of 
the cliff. One ought to be able to see the French coast 
there to-day.” 

He held out a hand to help her up, and Copper Top 
stood up too and looked over the edge of the cliff to 
right and left. There was no living soul moving. 

“I think I’ll go and have a swim,” he said, and swung 
himself over the edge of the cliff. He negotiated the 
narrow track down its face with the ease and agility of a 
chamois. 

Don and Ishtar made their way along the top. When 
they reached the Point Copper Top was a speck far out 
in the immensity of blue. 

“By Jove, he can swim,” exclaimed Don. “Look 
where he’s got to.” 

“Do you ever wish you were like him?” asked Ishtar. 

“Good heavens no!” replied Don. 

“I do sometimes. I think it’s because he seems to have 
the freedom of the world, in a way nobody else has-” 

Now Don did not approve of a desire for freedom in a 
woman. A woman ought to be protected and taken care 
of. A woman was a thing to be cherished and guided 
and possessed. 

That hot flame which Copper Top’s song had lighted 
burnt up suddenly, a tumult that was sharply, intolerably 
sweet, rioted within him. A fierce desire to shield her, to 
hold her, to gather her up inside himself, swept him like 
a storm. 

He was not shy of looking at her any longer. He 
devoured with his eyes the adorable physical perfection of 
her, passionately and yet with reverence. 



300 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Izzy,” he said, “of course you know I—I”—his strong 
young voice trembled over the word—“love you. Will 
you have me?” 

Ishtar had known for a long time that this moment 
would come. Sometimes even she had wondered what 
he would say when he told her. She had been quite sure, 
too, that she was in love with him. She was proud of 
his looks and his dependable, capable character. He 
was the sort of man of whom any woman would be proud. 
And he was good to her, just a perfect dear. She had 
had her dreams of the moment when he would tell her. 
The wonderful moment that all the poets had so gloriously 
extolled. She had dreamed of it quite often. So often 
wondered what it would really be like, and after such 
dreams when she had seen Don had been exquisitely 
sweet and shy and daring all at once. And now, when 
all that wonder kingdom was waiting for her to enter in, 
even while his close proximity, the quick pant of his 
breathing, made the blood in her veins tingle with a 
curious sweet pain, there came rushing over her that old 
childish desire for Freedom. The great Freedom that 
lay somewhere beyond the world she knew, beyond the 
Land of Safety. 

She could have cried for it in a passion of despair as 
she had cried long ago as a little child, when Copper Top 
had swum out to sea with the sea-birds round him in the 
track of the sun, and left her behind. He was there now, 
out in that Freedom—so alive—terribly and wonderfully 
alive. 

“Oh Don, dear Don—I don’t know,” she said piti¬ 
fully. “I thought—indeed I thought-” 

Then she stopped, for it was as if she had struck the 
life and light out of his face. It was horrible. She 
struggled after words to explain. She couldn’t bear him 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


30 1 


to look like that. There was a dreadful silence. Then 
he spoke. His lips moved stiffly in his queer-stricken 
face. He didn’t look like Don at all. 

“You mean you don’t care for me enough?” he asked. 

He had always been so sure she cared for him, just as 
she had been sure he had cared for her. Ever since he 
could remember it had always been he and she together. 
There had never been anyone else. That it should not 
always be so seemed impossible. And she didn’t know. 
Then Ishtar found words. 

“I do care for you, Don. I do care for you. It’s 
always been you and I. Always. It isn’t that-” 

There were tears in her eyes. She wished he would 
put the old comfortable arm of her childhood round her, 
and mop them with his handkerchief, and say, “Do stop 
crying Izzy.” Then she could tell him how it was. At 
any rate the horrid stiff look went out of his face. 

“Then what is it?” he asked. 

She put her hand on his arm, and drew it back again. 
He was shaking from head to foot. 

“Can’t we go on just like we are for a bit longer?” 
she asked timidly. “Just like we are. I—I couldn’t 
bear to lose you, one little bit, Don.” 

Don’s face broke into a relieved smile. Things were 
not so desperate after all. He thought he understood. 
Ishtar wasn’t only a beautiful body to him, she was a 
spiritual thing to be approached as holy ground. He had 
been sudden and clumsy and beastly cock-sure. 

“I’m awfully sorry, Izzy,” he said gently. “Of course 
we will go on as we are, if you like. Would you care 
to walk a bit further along the cliff?” 

Oh, but this was dreadful. It was as if he had sud¬ 
denly removed himself a hundred miles off. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said, and made a rather quiver- 



302 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

ing attempt at a smile. “I’d like to sit down here, and 
I’d like you to sit beside me like we used to do when 
we told secrets. And I want to try and tell you just what 
it is, if I can. I don’t want to feel there’s a horrid old 
wall of misunderstanding between us-” 

She sat down on the edge of the cliff and patted the 
ground beside her. That she was being abominably cruel 
never entered into her head. That the only fair thing to 
Don was to let him alone never occurred to her. She 
had been brought up as far as possible in the complete 
ignorance of which Lady Hawkhurst approved. What 
she would have liked at the moment was for Don to put 
that comfortable arm round her, mop her wet eyes with 
his handkerchief and say, “For goodness sake don’t be¬ 
gin to cry, Izzy.” 

But Don sat down at a respectful distance and pulled 
up tufts of the short grass and flung them into the sea. 

“You’re not cross, are you, Don?” she asked. 

“No,” said Don. “Fire ahead, Izzy.” 

“You see, it’s like this,” she began desperately. “I’ve 
got a kink in me somewhere. I’m not true to type, Don. 
I’ve felt it ever since I was small—only I didn’t under¬ 
stand then. I’ve always had a feeling as if I were shut 
up, as if I were in a shell. I don’t mind it as a rule, it’s 
a comfortable shell enough. I don’t know that I really 
want to get out of it. It would be much easier if I did. 
But sometimes—not very often—but sometimes—I do 
want to get out desperately. I feel as if we were all 
only playing at life just as—as a chrysalis might be play¬ 
ing at it—inside his cocoon. Thinking he was alive, you 
know. And occupied with all sorts of things that aren’t 
real at all—only make-believes. It’s a horrible feeling 
when it comes. I used to get it when I went to bed 
when I was a child. It isn’t so bad now, but it used to 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


303 


be awful then. You see I was brought up to bottle up 
everything and do as I was told—I don’t think people 
realise how children suffer. And I remember when I 
heard about Copper Top and his life out in the woods 
I longed to get out of my life into his. He used to 
stand to me in some odd way for Freedom. Only I was 
afraid of it. I couldn’t have stayed out in the great 
forest all alone like he did. I should have cried for 
Nanny and the nursery fire and lights and my cot, and 
knowing I was safe in my little shell. But when the sun 
shone and I was with him, I longed for his freedom—he 
seemed free of all the world. I felt like a chrysalis just 
when he was going to crack up his back. But always I 
knew I was afraid to crack. To be out all alone with 
everything. And just now when—when you asked me to 
marry you, Don, I felt one of those longings for the 
Freedom that I feel lies outside our little shell. I wanted 
it desperately—it’s ever so desperate the want when it 
comes—and so I didn’t know—oh Don, do you under¬ 
stand a little bit?” 

She poured it all out swiftly, hurriedly, with little 
breaks here and there. Don followed her with diffi¬ 
culty. 

“But you would not be less free with me, dear,” he 
said. “You would be much freer really. I—I’d let you 
do pretty well what you liked.” 

“Oh, Don, but don’t you see?” She was half laughing 
now. “You are like the nursery fire and the cot and the 
safe feeling. I’d be settling myself into my chrysalis for 
good and all. And it’s such a dear, warm, comfortable 
chrysalis. I want it too. But Don, if this life of ours 
isn’t real at all—is only make-believe—if we’re only run¬ 
ning round in a little circle doing the things because we’ve 
always done them, and not doing things just for the same 


304 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

reason. And all of us living and not knowing what life 
is—when you think about it at all, really think, Don— 
doesn’t it make you feel lost and horrible and—oh—and 
want to get out?” 

“No,” said Don, looking at her with puzzled eyes. 
The violence of the storm of passion which had swept 
over him was subsiding, but curiously it seemed to have 
carried him like some great wave to a different stand¬ 
point. He too was conscious of an urge within towards 
something bigger than he could grasp. Perhaps what 
Ishtar was trying to describe was the same sort of thing. 
He tried to get the chaos in which his thoughts rose up 
and then were lost again, into something like order. And 
while he struggled with it, hunted about too for words 
with which to answer Ishtar, to tell her that at least if 
he did not understand he had some idea of what she was 
trying to explain, Ishtar looked at him. Looked at his 
lithe, well-knit figure, six foot of splendid manhood, at 
his crisp, close-cut hair, at his straight profile bent above 
the grass he was still plucking up by handfuls and throw¬ 
ing with little impatient jerks over the cliff. Nearly, 
very nearly, she bent forward and gave herself to him 
for good and all. Only recurring again and again, not 
as from without, but within herself so it seemed, she 
heard the slender solemn theme that had run through 
the sweet madness of Copper Top’s song. The theme 
which had followed some hidden path—austere—with¬ 
held—untrod—it called to her—called like the Pipes of 
Pan at the Gates of Dawn- 

“For goodness sake don’t cry, Izzy,” said Don at last, 
and she found the tears had welled over and were run¬ 
ning down her face. She mopped them up for herself 
hurriedly, ashamed. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


305 


“It’s all right, dear,” Don went on. “I think I under¬ 
stand. At any rate this particular part of the contents 
of the chrysalis isn’t playing at things. It’s real enough 
that I love you. Good God, Izzy, I’d be cut into pieces 
for you. . . 

“Oh Don, I know—I know. And I do love you— 
I do. If you will only wait . . 

“While I’m alive—” said Don, and choked on the 
words. 

She slipped her hand into his, and he held it quite 
gently in his strong grip as he had often held it when 
they were children, and she was frightened. But he went 
white under his tan. Izzy did not know. Of course she 
did not know. 

He set his teeth and looked out over the sea. Any 
sign of Copper Top had disappeared, but presently his 
voice called to them from below. Don dropped Ishtar’s 
hand and looked over the cliff. 

“There’s a nest full of young larks here,” Copper 
Top called up to him. “The joiliest little beggars 
you ever saw. Just fledged. Can you two get 
down here? They’re too young to be frightened of 
you.” 

He was on a small plateau tucked away in a sheltered 
spot where the turf and thyme grew together. Ishtar 
joined Don and peered over the cliff. “I’ve never seen 
a lark’s nest. I’d love to.” 

“Come round to the other side, to the right. There’s 
a fairly easy track. Yes, that way. No, more to the 
right,” directed Copper Top. 

They scrambled down, laughing and calling to one 
another. Things grew comfortable and happy again as 
they scrambled. Finally they tumbled more or less dis¬ 
hevelled on to the plateau. 


3°6 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“I shall never get back,” panted Ishtar as she landed. 
“But oh, what a lovely little cubby hole!” 

She looked round. They seemed shut into a place of 
quiet warmth and brightness. Little flowers were blos¬ 
soming in the crannies of the cliff all around and above 
them. There was no land. Only the sea and the sky 
and this nest, hung in space. 

“What a place to have a nest,” she said. “Oh, the 
clever things!” 

Copper Top showed her the five speckle-breasted baby 
larks, seemingly tucked into a round hole in the turf. 
They looked with bright eyes, and opened their mouths 
promptly. Fear was not yet, only curiosity and a demand 
for food. 

“The little blessed dears!” murmured Ishtar. 

“Jolly pretty, aren’t they?” said Don, and picked one 
out of the nest. 

It sat in the palm of his hand and continued to demand 
food with unwinking persistence. 

“You mustn’t stay,” said Copper Top. “It will give 
the old birds a bad fright if they find you here. But I 
knew you’d like to see them. Go up first, Don—then 
Star—and I’ll follow. She’ll be all right then.” 

“I’d like to stay here. It’s the loveliest place,” said 
Ishtar. “Look, there’s a tiny butterfly. Only one would 
want to be able to fly—then-” 

Copper Top laughed. He took her hand, turned it 
over, and dropped a butterfly kiss into the palm. Then 
he doubled her fingers over it with absurd and exagger¬ 
ated care. 

“Never mind—there’s a present for you,” he said. “I 
will learn to play tennis.” 

When she got home Ishtar went up to her bedroom, 
the bedroom that had always been hers, where on every 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


307 


fine night the star above the tallest tree-top shone in at 
the window. She rang for Rose to take off her habit 
and riding-boots, and brush her hair. 

'‘Mademoiselle is tired,” said Rose sympathetically. 

“No,” said Ishtar, “Tm much worse than tired, Rose. 
I don’t know what I want.” 

“But,” objected Rose, “Mademoiselle has everything.” 

Ishtar laughed and sighed both at once. 

“Ah, Rose, but suppose I want the moon! There! 
that will do. Come back in time to dress me for 
dinner.” 

After Rose had left her, she sat down and tried to put 
things straight in her mind, but she could not put them 
straight. Indeed to get them straight was no simple 
matter, for she was torn between two desires without 
understanding either of them. 

When she was dressed she went in to see her grand¬ 
mother. Lady Condor had just arrived at the stage 
when she put on her jewels. 

“The pink topaz, I think, Mullins,” she was saying as 
Ishtar entered. 

“Oh, let me choose for you like I used to, Grannie,” 
she exclaimed. “I’d love to.” 

Lady Condor looked at her. “Well, you’ve chosen 
very well for yourself, my dear,” she said. “I like that 
frock. It’s 'real cunning,’ as the Americans say.” 

But her dear shrewd eyes were taking in more than the 
frock. “See what you can do with your old Grannie. 
Mullins, don’t wait. Miss Helen will do anything more 
I want.” 

“I love your frock, too, Grannie, and you look a 
darling, but I don’t think I fancy the pink topaz with it. 
Let me have a look now.” 

She was standing in front of the jewel cabinet so that 


3°8 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


her profile only was turned towards her grandmother 
while she drew out one drawer after another. 

“We had a gorgeous ride this afternoon, Grannie. 
And we found a lark’s nest, at least Copper Top did.” 

Lady Condor murmured something unintelligible. 
She was putting on some lip salve. 

“Grannie, how do you know if you’re in love with 
somebody or not?’’ 

“Ah!” exclaimed Lady Condor. Then she let her 
stick of salve fall on the floor. “My dear, I’ve dropped 
my lip salve. Thank you, darling. How does one 
know—? Well, one . . . um . . . well . . 

“How did you know yourself, Grannie? Because you 
were in love with Grandpa, weren’t you?” Ishtar had 
gone back to the cabinet and was apparently deeply ab¬ 
sorbed with its contents. 

“Good gracious, yes!” exclaimed Lady Condor. “I 
was crazy about him. Quite crazy. That’s it, my dear! 
It’s a madness. You can’t mistake it when it comes 
because that’s what it is. I would have walked bare foot 
round the world after him. I would have scrubbed and 
washed and cooked and—and fed pigs for him, though 
I should have done them all very badly, I’m afraid, just 
for the mere satisfaction of being near him, you under¬ 
stand. Oh, a madness, my dear!” 

“But all people are not alike, Grannie.” 

“No, my dear, that is true—but all people fall in 
love.” Lady Condor powdered her nose again though 
it was already well powdered, then she removed what 
she had put on with a fine pocket-handkerchief. During 
this process she thought furiously. 

“There are three things that happen to everybody,” 
she said, looking at her nose sideways with the hand¬ 
glass. “Birth, falling in love, and Death. It is all part 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 309 

of Nature’s determination that we should all go on, I 
think—continuing the—the thingummy, you know.” 

She put down the hand-glass and slid thankfully, as it 
were, away from the subject. 

“But they don’t fall in love in the same way—no—I 
remember-” 

She fell into profound thought and smiled. 

“Were you ever in love with anybody else or only 
Grandpa?” asked Ishtar. She had left the jewel cabinet 
now, and was standing in her old place by the dressing- 
table asking questions with the same solemn eyes as the 
child had done. 

“Yes, lots of times, dear. Why, I very nearly got 
engaged to Cousin James,” she giggled irrepressibly. 
“But when your grandfather came—” She waved two 
plump jewelled hands expressively. 

“Then you wouldn’t advise anyone to get engaged 
unless they feel they can—can follow bare foot—and— 
and—just like that, Grannie?” 

“It’s safest!” said Lady Condor, succinctly for once. 
“You see,” she added, “there’s nothing in the world 
that requires so much making the best of things you 
don’t like as marriage, if it’s to be a success at all. The 
trial your grandfather has been to me at times, and that’s 
nothing to the trial I must have been to him! And I 
believe I’ve got worse, not better. There isn’t a peculiar¬ 
ity I ever had that I haven’t still got . . . still got . . . 
what is the word I want, my dear?—accentuated—yes. 
And of course”—Lady Condor contemplated herself 
thoughtfully in the glass—“I am peculiar.” 

“Yes, darling,” said Ishtar. “But it would be dread¬ 
ful if you weren’t. I don’t know what I’d do. And I 
suppose what you advise is that one had better not marry 
unless one just can’t help it.” 



3 10 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“No, dear, I don’t advise. I don’t like advising. It’s 
always a wonder to me how fond people are of it. Ad¬ 
vising, I mean. Not taking it. No! Nobody does 
take it as a rule, so I never can think why they are always 
asking for it. I don’t mean you, darling, of course. 
And to marry at the best is to take what my poor dear 
Ricky used to call ‘a deuce of a risk.’ A deuce of a 
risk,” she repeated, and powdered her nose once 
more. 

“All the same a girl has to marry,” said Ishtar. 

“Of course she has, and a man too,” exclaimed Lady 
Condor with animation. “Why, look at Arthur Fothers- 
ley! He’s becoming a regular old maid. Like they 
used to be, you know. The new old maid, of course, is 
different. Rather dreadfully capable and masterful, I 
think. Look at Bertha Blenkinsop. We have just made 
her the Secretary of the Women’s Conservative Asso¬ 
ciation, and— But where were we ? Oh yes—about girls 
marrying. Your dear mother would be dreadfully upset 
if you did not. Besides”—Lady Condor’s face grew a 
little wistful but amazingly sweet. Her eyes sought two 
miniatures standing among the innumerable paraphernalia 
on her dressing-table. She finished her sentence below 
her breath. “It is a wonderful thing to be the mother 
of a son.” 

Lady Condor wore the pink topaz after all, and was 
rather distrait all through dinner. Had she been any 
use at all to the child? It was very difficult to know 
what to say. Probably, too, dear Connie had told her 
nothing—nothing whatever, she would not think it nice. 
It wasn’t very nice, of course. She thought of things 
she might have said all through dinner, and used even 
more confused metaphors than usual. 

After dinner they went on to a small dance for young 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


3ii 

people given by Mr. Fothersley. He liked these little 
entertainments, and gave them frequently. Indeed, he 
took a considerable pride in showing how these things 
should be done. 

He always asked the fathers and mothers as well as 
the young people, and the supper was beyond question. 
Fox-trots and bunny-hugs were not even mentioned, and 
Mr. Fothersley occasionally took the floor in an old- 
fashioned polka himself. 

“Where is Copper Top?” asked Lady Condor, look¬ 
ing round after the third dance through her glasses. “I 
haven’t seen him yet. Or couldn’t you get him to come ?” 

“I did not ask him,” said Mr. Fothersley a little stiffly. 
“I have never approved, as you know, of treating the 
boy like one of Us, and I approve still less now he is 
grown up.” 

“Grown up!” repeated Lady Condor. “Yes, I sup¬ 
pose he is. They do it so suddenly, don’t they? What 
is it, Arthur?” 

Mr. Fothersley looked round him. “What is what?” 
he asked. 

“The something important you want to say to me. I 
always know when you scratch your chin like that that 
you have something important to say. I hope it is some¬ 
thing interesting. Now sit down and let us be com¬ 
fortable over it.” 

She patted the chair beside her, and Mr. Fothersley 
sat down. 

“No, Marion,” he said, “it is not interesting—not in 
the way you mean. It is disturbing. I gather there was 
a good deal of talk after your At Home the other day 
—undesirable talk I consider about James’ protege. 
. . . The general conclusion seems to be that he is really 
—urn—er—James’ natural son.” 


3 12 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Well!” exclaimed Lady Condor. “What else did 
James expect? The only wonder is they have not said 
it before.” 

“Possibly they have, but it did not come to my ears,” 
said Mr. Fothersley. “However, that sort of talk is, 
of course, purely James’ affair. There is far worse 
behind-” 

“You do not mean it is true!” Lady Condor was 
really agitated. “But of course it is not—James would 
never—” All sorts of amazing possibilities and im¬ 
possibilities crowded into her mind. 

“I do not know if it is true or not. I should think 
probably not ” said Mr. Fothersley. “What has dis¬ 
tressed and disturbed me-” 

“Arthur, you are thoroughly enjoying yourself.” 

“I am both distressed and disturbed,” repeated Mr. 
Fothersley with dignity. He gathered himself together 
for the bonne bouche. “As you will understand when 
I tell you they are coupling Helen’s name with the young 
man’s.” 

“Arthur!” The sparkle of anticipated enjoyment died 
out of Lady Condor’s eye. She looked comically dis¬ 
appointed, as well as disturbed. “But what possible 
reason—he has only just come back ” 

She was guiltily and acutely aware of long days spent 
by Ishtar up at the Little House . . . probably alone in 
the forest with Copper Top. But who could have 
known? Had anyone seen? “What are they saying?” 
she demanded. 

“She made herself rather conspicuous with him, if you 
remember, at your At Home sitting in the window,” said 
Mr. Fothersley. “I wondered at the time that Connie 
allowed it.” 

“She was in one of the other rooms,” murmured Lady 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


3i3 

Condor. “I do hope she will not hear of this ridiculous 
talk.” 

“Of course that was quite enough to start everybody 
talking,” Mr. Fothersley continued. “Mrs. Bunbury was 
there and Miss Goble-” 

“I never liked that woman,” interposed Lady Condor. 

“I do not know if there has been any other incident 
to cause gossip.” 

“Nor do I!” said Lady Condor. “But I have been 
an old fool. I’m sure—at least I hope”—she remem¬ 
bered Ishtar’s questions—“there is no truth whatever in 
it, but of course there might have been. I’m afraid 
we’ve all been taking it too much for granted perhaps 
that Ishtar will marry Don MacClean.” 

“A most suitable match. Most . . .” 

“Of course it is. The only question is, is it too suit¬ 
able ? Arthur, where are my glasses ? I dropped them 
off my nose, I think, just now when you dropped your 
bomb—and it really is a bomb—just when I thought too 
you had something really amusing—oh, there they are— 
but where were we? I don’t care what people are say¬ 
ing, they will say anything about nothing—but if it were 
true it would not do at all, not at all. Hawkhurst and 
Connie would never hear of it. If only he were James’ 
son—his proper son, I mean-” 

“Even then he would be no match for Helen,” said 
Mr. Fothersley. He disliked nicknames and never used 
them. “And as it is . . Words failed him. 

“Dear Arthur, I suppose you have been right all the 
time. How horrid of you!” 

“I must own I did not foresee this probability, Marion,” 
owned Mr. Fothersley handsomely. “But I dislike 
intimacies when you don’t know people’s antecedents, 
because what have you to go upon? Blood always-” 





3H 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Yes, Arthur. I remember I talked just like that to 
James when he found the boy. But all the same I can’t 
help being fond of him now he’s there.” 

“He is distinctively attractive,” said Mr. Fothersley, 
regretfully. “That—that,” he repeated impressively, “is 
the danger.” 

Yes. And long days in the woods. In the spring 
time. A most dangerous time. Yes. Tennyson. Lady 
Condor’s mind flew about, and she wondered and won¬ 
dered again how she could have been so foolish. 

“It was resurrecting all the old Primrose League 
paraphernalia,” she said with apparent inconsequence. 
“And it never will resurrect, you know, never! They 
are all quarrelling already and writing letters to the papers 
about each other. We must think of something new. 
And there were all those Committee Meetings to ar¬ 
range something for the poor Irish refugees. But my 
dear, I do not believe there is anything really in it—any¬ 
thing whatever,” she repeated firmly. Then she wavered. 
“Poor dear Connie!” she exclaimed. “She would have 
a fit!” 

Connie came into Lady Condor’s room that night. She 
often did after parties because gowns were fastening up 
the back again, and Lady Condor did not like to keep 
her maid up. To-night, while Connie was unhooking, she 
said: 

“Don proposed to Ishtar to-day.” 

“She—she hasn’t refused him?” asked Lady Condor, 
anxiously screwing her head over her left shoulder in a 
vain attempt to catch sight of her daughter-in-law’s face. 
“Never mind doing that!” 

“I’ve just finished,” said Lady Hawkhurst with irritat¬ 
ing calm, while Lady Condor’s mind literally galloped 
about. Was it at the dance, after their talk together? 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 315 

Had she been unwise? But one must tell the truth— 
sometimes. 

“I noticed his manner at dinner,” Lady Hawkhurst 
continued, slipping the gown forward over Lady Condor’s 
still beautiful shoulders. “And I asked her afterwards if 
anything had happened. She seems to have suggested 
that he should wait. I could not get much out of her. 
She is curious, you know, sometimes, and of course one 
does not want to influence her too much, or hurry her 
_>> 

Lady Hawkhurst looked at her mother-in-law inquir¬ 
ingly. 

“No,” murmured Lady Condor. “But I wish-” 

“So do I,” replied Lady Hawkhurst. “I always feel a 
little anxious about Ishtar. I’ve never felt that I under¬ 
stand her like I do the boys. You know how carefully 
she has been brought up, and this evening she said she 
thought a woman ought to have two husbands, one when 
she wanted adventures, and one when she wanted to feel 
safe! I can’t think where she gets these ideas from! 
And I do hate the type of woman who wants to have 
adventures.” 

Lady Condor hid a smile while she unhooked her 
corsets. Dear Connie must have irritated Ishtar very 
much before she said that to her. It was just the sort 
of thing that Ricky would have said. But Connie was 
quite right, these ideas were not at all desirable in a girl. 

“I can’t think where she gets it from,” complained 
Lady Hawkhurst.” 

“No,” murmured Lady Condor. (Poor dear Condor. 
How utterly unable he had been, in his youth, to resist an 
adventure. It did sometimes come out in the women 

-) “But I don’t think, my dear,” she went on briskly, 

“that Ishtar means the sort of adventure you are think- 





3 j 6 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


ing of. The child means star hunting or trying to find 
the moon. That sort of thing.” 

“I dislike that too,” said Lady Hawkhurst. “Of 
course the child might marry anybody. Young Rysdale 
was mad about her. But one has always looked upon it 
as more or less settled that she and Don-” 

“And so they will,” said Lady Condor comfortingly. 
“She’s so used to him as a friend, she wants a little time 
to get used to him as a lover, that’s all it is.” 

She was relieved. If Ishtar had fallen in love with 
Copper Top she most certainly would not have suggested 
to Don that he should wait. 

All the same Lady Condor had had a fright. Those 
woods in May and June, and the Hawkhursts coming to 
the Castle every week-end, and Don away at Cambridge. 
Don who had got to wait. Lady Condor sat and thought 
until the dawn was at hand. Then she made up her mind 
with the extreme suddenness characteristic of her. 

Regardless of the hour, she went into her husband’s 
room and switched on the electric light. It fell full on 
his sleeping face and on her own reflection in the long 
mirror opposite the door. She looked at both and sighed. 
Yes, it was difficult to keep the torch of Romance a^ght 
when one got past middle age. But the real man, whom 
she knew now as she had never done in those glorious 
glamour days when they were young, the real man, who 
had been such a trial, what a darling he was. She watched 
him sleeping with different eyes, but they were still the 
eyes of love. 

“Tony,” she said and tickled him. “Wake up. I want 
to talk to you.” 

“What the devil,” murmured Lord Condor. Then he 
sat up and blinked. “Good Heavens! Marion!” He 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


3U 


blinked again. “What on earth are you Lady Macbething 
at this hour for ?” 

Lady Condor giggled. “Tony, you know that trip to 
Canada we’ve been promising ourselves before Lanchest- 
er’s time there is up ? I want to go now. I mean as soon 
as ever we can get off. A really nice trip. Not a hurried 
scratch round. We will take Ishtar with us, and Hawk- 
hurst and Connie can nurse the constituency. We do 
overshadow them, you know. I’ve thought it all out. 
Just tell me if you can go. I just want to know that, 
and then you can go to sleep again, darling.’’ 

“Upon my word,” said Lord Condor. “Upon my 
word!” Then he began to laugh. “Paddy, I believe I 
like the idea. We’ll settle dates to-morrow.” 

“He is,” said his wife as she paddled back to her room, 
“a perfect gem of a husband.” 

Other men would have asked why and what and all the 
other worrying things beginning with W’s. And it would 
have been so perfectly impossible to explain the matter 
to any man. 

She climbed voluminously into bed, went to sleep 
happily, dreamed that she was being married to Mr. 
Fothersley in Westminster Abbey, and woke up exclaim¬ 
ing, “What will Condor say ?” 

The idea of the trip to Canada caught on. The more 
Lady Condor thought of it the better pleased she was 
with it. So was Lord Condor. So, and in a far greater 
degree was Ishtar. For her mother, with the best inten¬ 
tions in the world, had succeeded in thoroughly frighten¬ 
ing her. Lady Hawkhurst herself did not know what to 
think. Dearly as she loved her mother-in-law she was 
not quite sure that she was the best companion for Ishtar 
at the moment. 

“You know your mother can’t help always liking every- 


3i8 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


body to have what they want,” she said, when talking 
it over with Lord Hawkhurst. “I think it’s what makes 
her such a dear. But people don’t always want what is 
best for them. And, of course, however long she thinks 
about it, Ishtar cannot do better than marry Don Mac- 
Clean.” 

“She’s only a child,” said Lord Hawkhurst. “There’s 
no hurry about it that I see.” 

The idea that Ishtar was old enough to be married had 
come to him as a surprise, rather as a shock. She was 
absurdly young. He did not feel particularly keen on 
her being engaged even yet. Long engagements, too, were 
bad things. 

“What does Mother think about it ?” he asked. 

“Oh, she agrees with me. She thinks Ishtar could not 
do better. She was quite disappointed, I think, when I 
told her what had happened.” 

“Very well, then. I think the trip’s a good idea my¬ 
self. The child wants to go—she’ll enjoy it. And it 
will give her time to make up her mind without being 
bothered.” 

Indeed, the more Lord Hawkhurst thought of the idea 
the more pleased he was with it too. 

And all of them would have thought the trip still more 
desirable had they known of the long days in the forest, 
or of the talk in the neighborhood. But Lady Condor 
kept her guilty secret to herself, and by the middle of 
May the party had sailed for New York. Don Mac- 
Clean ran down to Liverpool to see them off. He also 
had a heart-to-heart talk with Lady Condor. 

“I don’t want to worry Izzy, you know,” he said 
when it was over. 

“No,” said Lady Condor. She beamed up into his 
square, sweet-tempered face, which was looking so des- 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


3i9 


perately earnest, and felt glad that she liked him quite 
as well as Copper Top, apart from his long line of 
ancestors, his great castle in the north, and the two hun¬ 
dred thousand pounds his father had left him. “No, my 
dear boy, of course that would never do—you are very 
wise. I will wire. Now let me write down the dates— 
where is my little calendar—in that bag—yes.” 

“You—you won’t lose it?” asked Don. His eyes 
twinkled in spite of anxiety. 

“It is a most remarkable thing,” said Lady Condor 
confidentially, “but although I drop everything all over 
the place, and they hide themselves in the most extra¬ 
ordinary way, I never really lose anything—not for good, 
I mean. And in any case—let me see what is the date— 
the 4th of June. Yes—what happens on the 4th of June 
—something important—yes, on the 4th of June Mullins 
will have orders to say to me, ‘Wire to Cambridge/ ” 

She looked at him triumphantly. 

“It is important,” said Don, and laughed. “But don’t 
wire if you think she’d rather I didn’t come. It’s awfully 
good of you, Aunt Marion.” 

Lady Condor did not forget, and duly, during May 
week, which at Cambridge takes place in June, Don re¬ 
ceived a cable from her containing the one word, “Come.” 
Nor did she fail to appear even more surprised than her 
husband or Ishtar when, one morning during breakfast¬ 
time at the Banff Hotel in the Rockies, Don MacClean 
walked in and explained that it had struck him as a good 
way to spend the long vacation. 

And Ishtar, somewhat unexpectedly, found him exactly 
the Don she had always known. Her slave, but a matter- 
of-fact slave, who could on occasion be rather more than 
a little masterful. He added enormously to the enjoy¬ 
ment of the trip. Until he arrived it had been a little 


320 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


disappointing. Everyone was sweet to her, but she 
missed—what did she miss? Was it Don or was it 
Copper Top, or was it not rather both of them? 

Lady Condor’s guilty secret lay so lightly upon her 
soul that she told her husband all about it. 

“Tarzan,” exclaimed Lord Condor. “Well, upon my 
word, Paddy, I should never have thought of it myself! 
I never look on him as ordinary flesh and blood. He’s 
made of the elements.” 

“But one of them is fire,” remarked Lady Condor, 
sagely. 

“H’m,” said Lord Condor. “Well, just as well to be 
careful! One never knows. As for Don MacClean, he 
generally gets what he wants I’ve noticed. Just like him, 
following us out here. Well, she can’t do better.” 


CHAPTER IV 


Dr. Charles Pendlebury spent his long vacation 
with the Professor and Copper Top. He enjoyed himself 
very much. The food was excellent; he nearly decided 
to become a vegetarian, moreover it agreed with him. 
Never had his brain worked so clearly nor had he relished 
with greater satisfaction what a first-class instrument it 
was. He had not to consider clothes. It was an enor¬ 
mous rest. He went about looking exactly like a burglar’s 
assistant in an old suit which he declared he had kept for 
fifteen years for just such an occasion. He slept for 
hours in the sunshine, and announced that he had never 
had enough sleep before. He smoked prodigiously, and 
argued even more prodigiously, with the Professor, until 
Copper Top intervened with laughter and explained that 
they were talking more nonsense than had ever been put 
together at one time before. He and the boy were sup¬ 
posed to work together every morning. They certainly 
played the piano a good deal. Pendlebury also taught 
Copper Top to play a fair game of tennis down on the 
Castle courts. Still they must have worked a little be¬ 
cause Copper Top passed his examination at Cam¬ 
bridge. 

Pendlebury declared that he must have thrown a magic 
spell—a black-magic spell—over the examiners. 

At any rate he passed, and went up to Cambridge. 
Found her gorgeously arrayed in her October robe of 


32 1 


3 22 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


gold and crimson, found her old streets and colleges full 
of young faces on whom discontent and satiety and worry 
had not yet set their hall-mark. Found in her the shining 
of youth and the sound of laughter. 

“I will stay,” he said to the Professor. “At least for 
a bit.” He liked to please his ’Dophin when ’Dophin 
did not demand things altogether too utterly absurd. 
Also, through the years, wonder had grown up in the 
boy, and a certain interest in the ways of men. How 
did they endure the solemn stagnation of their lives? 
What induced them to follow with such zest, such 
strangely uninviting pursuits? What imp of darkness 
persuaded them to play such queer tricks? To fight each 
other over things of no importance, oblivious to the 
wonder and glory of the things that mattered and which 
need no fighting over. What madness drove them to 
bind themselves hand and foot by strange laws and cus¬ 
toms, so that they crawled captives to their own follies, 
and knew neither joy nor freedom. How did they bear 
it—day after day—year after year? Copper Top peered 
at them out of his own fair world and wondered. He 
began to be interested. 

“I will stay,” he said. “At least for a bit.” 

The Professor had found him rooms high up in the sun 
and air, and where from the windows you could see across 
the tree-tops to the water meadows and the far low hills, 
and he had made unholy compacts, subversive of law and 
order, with the landlady, who, however, in any case be¬ 
came almost as foolish as himself over the Boy, from the 
moment he arrived with Little Wolf fiercely snarling at 
all comers under one arm and a pert-tailed, excited terrier 
under the other. She took the dogs in, against all rules, 
and bore with them, and she let Copper Top go his own 
way and no one was the wiser. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


323 


It is certain that if Copper Top had lived in College 
he would not have stayed much longer than he had stayed 
at school. He was entered at Trinity, where Don Mac- 
Clean was in his third, and Richard Moresby in his 
second year, both eager and willing to take Copper Top 
under their wing, so far as he would allow of it. 

Richard Moresby had turned out what is generally 
known as “a good chap, but a bit of a fool,” and as a 
political career was marked out for him it did not seem 
necessary that he should do more than take a decent 
degree. For the rest he played lawn tennis very well and 
tried to speak at the Union. Don MacClean’s friendship 
was of greater value to Copper Top, and helped him by 
its mere existence, for he was a double Blue and a very 
big man indeed. 

In this capacity he had scored for Richard his one big 
success at the Union. The proposition ran “that a Blue 
is of more value to a man than a First.” The opposition 
were the better debaters, and the day seemed lost when 
Richard rose for the proposer’s final. MacClean had just 
come in, and was standing inside the doorway, tall and 
straight and limber as a young sapling, and, as all knew, 
with a right clean record that men respected behind his 
splendid physical personality. Nearing the end of his 
peroration Richard caught sight of him, and at the same 
time of his inspiration. “Look at MacClean!” he cried. 
The house cheered like mad, and the voting went for the 
Blues. 

Copper Top wondered how any man could be foolish 
enough to spend the golden treasure of youth on either 
pursuit, but he was thankful that his friend was an athlete 
rather than a scholar. He would have disliked visions 
of Don or Richard slowly fossilising into the strange 
shapes acquired by learned Dons who had made a study 


324 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

of the Pyramids, or the Middle Ages, or something 
equally dead and dusty, the main interest of their lives. 

Trinity first became aware of his existence in Mac- 
Clean’s rooms, playing the piano and singing amazingly 
well. He speedily became popular. 

“He is like a Pint of the Boy,” someone suggested, and 
the Boy he became among MacClean’s and Moresby’s 
immediate set. 

He did no more work than was absolutely necessary, 
and that is very little indeed, but he had to sit through 
a certain number of meals that to him were hideous with 
noise and smell, and also through a certain number of 
lectures on subjects wjhich had no connection whatever 
with life as Copper Top understood it. 

But these people were all alike, he thought. What 
were they doing? What were they after? Where were 
they trying to get to? He sat and looked at them and 
marvelled. 

His first plunge into notoriety was for assault with 
violence, on a respectable gentleman, a retired cheese¬ 
monger, who possessed a charming house on a back water 
of the Cam. He also possessed a thrush in a cage. Cop¬ 
per Top, idling with the river one sunshiny November 
afternoon, caught sight of his brother, dull-eyed and 
miserable, with mournful unused wings, being placed in 
his cage outside the respectable gentleman’s library win¬ 
dow, and promptly “trespassed,” as the respectable gentle¬ 
man said in Court, “in the most impertinent manner” 
and demanded the instant release of the captive. The 
respectable gentleman informed him that he would “see 
him damned first.” He owned to the language, but 
pleaded grave justification. 

On that, Copper Top picked him up bodily, dropped 
him into the back water and let the thrush fly. It flew 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


325 


over him as he struggled impotently, waist-high in weeds 
when more language occurred. Copper Top described it 
it Court as “most horrible sounds.” 

“At least you do not deny that you knew the bird was 
this gentleman’s property?” asked the plaintiff counsel. 

“Of course I do!” said Copper Top, and looked at him 
in mild surprise. 

Counsel looked at the Magistrate as one who says, 
“Well, there you are!” 

“The cage was in this gentleman’s private grounds,” 
the Magistrate reminded Copper Top. 

“But the thrush belongs to himself. His life is his 
own,” said Copper Top. “If you take it and shut it up, 
it does not make it yours.” 

He was obviously sincere. He was also really very 
delightful to look at. The Bench was lenient. As a 
matter of fact they did not think the boy quite sane, and 
gave him the option of a fine. The Dean had Copper 
Top up and gave him some good advice. He agreed 
that Copper Top had a right to his own opinion with 
regard to the rights of thrushes, but he had no right to 
put another gentleman into the river. 

Copper Top apologised, and the Dean had a chat with 
Pendlebury. 

“Brought up by Godolphin, James Godolphin!” he ex¬ 
claimed. “My dear fellow, it would account for anything. 
An able man, but misguided. You read his last book 


“He’s writing another—worse!” said Pendlebury. 

“You don’t say so. Dear! Dear!” 

“There isn’t one sacred monument of civilisation that 
he has not desecrated.” 

“Dear! Dear!” repeated the Dean. “A pity! A 
great pitv!” 



326 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Pendlebury departed before he began to giggle. 
He went to dine with Copper Top that night. He 
liked dining with the boy in his big bare room, 
where the flames from the log fire danced and 
gleamed, and the shining table glowed with the rich 
colour of fruits, yellow pears and crimson plums, the 
red-gold of pineapple, and the purple and pale green 
of grapes. And the boy himself reminded him more 
than ever of the Greek Hermes in the Capitol. And 
was almost as interesting to Pendlebury as that 
messenger of the gods himself might have been to dine 
with. 

After dinner Copper Top imitated the cheesemonger 
to the life. “Horrible sounds,” he concluded, “and you 
let a man like that shut up song-birds!” 

He was considerably puzzled also over the proceedings 
in Court. 

“You see,” he said, “I suppose they want you to speak 
the truth, or why do they make you swear to ? Then why 
do they let some rude person do his best to make you tell 
lies ?” 

“The Law is a very curious thing,” answered Pendle¬ 
bury. “These pears are excellent, Copper Top. There 

is really no reason why one should ever leave off-” 

He helped himself to his third. “The Law—yes—but it 
provides employment.” 

“That is what everything you do seems to be 
for,” complained Copper Top. “You all batten on 
each other. It is most funny. It is a circle. You all 
run round. But a circle never gets anywhere. It has no 
interest.” 

“And where should we get if we went in a straight 
line?” asked Pendlebury. 

“Nowhere,” said Copper Top, and laughed. “Why 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


327 


can’t you work from the centre ? You can’t get anywhere 
except from the centre.” 

He poured the Doctor out another glass of port and 
began to peel walnuts for him. Pendlebury watched him. 
He liked to watch Copper Top. He liked to see him 
peeling walnuts with his long fine fingers. He liked to 
see him move with the unconscious ease and grace of a 
young animal. 

“Copper Top,” he said, “are you going to be good and 
sing in the choir? Yes, a bit of bread with the walnuts 
—a great improvement. I met Gimper this morning, 
and he seemed to be under the delusion that I had some 
influence.” 

“I am not,” said Copper Top, so like the Professor that 
Pendlebury laughed. “I sing for him sometimes. An¬ 
thems, If they let me choose one I can bear. I will not 

sing hymns! Why Pen-” He stood before the fire 

and glared, and Pendlebury giggled again. It was just 
like the Professor! “How can you get together in a 
Dust Box and chant: 

“Days and moments quickly flying 
Blend the living with the dead, 

Soon shall you and I be lying 
Each within his narrow bed.” 

He began to laugh. “Oh, Pen, it is such blinking non¬ 
sense !” 

The flames rose gloriously from the crimson logs. 
They and the boy laughed together. No, he was not in 
the least like the Professor; he was like a flame of white 
fire. 

“Copper Top, you mustn’t call the Chapels Dust 
Boxes!” 

“Well, but it is what they are. You ought not to shut 



328 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


up dust. It’s not fair on the dust. And then you go and 
sit in it and say it’s beautiful. Why should you pray and 
praise always in a box? And why try to make its inside 
look like the glade of a wood and the arch of the sky, 
when the real thing, the live things, are there?” 

“Well, that’s only modern, or comparatively so, Tar- 
zan,” answered Pendlebury. “The ancient Greeks and 
Latins built their temples with roofs open to the sky. It 
was the Jew who first roofed his temple in with timber 
and metals. Our religion and our methods of worship 
are still mainly Jewish. St. John saw his visionary 
Heaven paved with gold and blazing with precious stones, 
and, by the way, I don’t think mentions such a thing as a 
flower in it.” 

“That was stupid,” said Copper Top. 

He moved to the window, where two shadowy wings 
hovered in the dimness outside. 

“Don’t tell me-” began Pendlebury. “It’s not the 

thrush ?” 

“Why not?” asked Copper Top. A speckled breast and 
two bright eyes became visible on the window-sill. He 
fed the bird with crumbs of cake. I can’t get him to 
come into the room, but he comes most mornings and 
evenings for food.” 

“How do you know it’s the same ?” 

Copper Top looked puzzled at the question. “Why, of 
course I know,” he said. 

“Well I’m jiggered!” said the Doctor, and helped him¬ 
self to more port. “Look here, young man, that thrush 
is stolen goods. Neither more or less. It belongs to the 
cheesemonger. You are making me an accessory after the 
fact.” 

Copper Top grinned. “The fat little beast,” he said. 
“Did you see the grease spots on his waistcoat? I hate 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 329 

grease spots. Some of the Dons ought to be spoken 
to.” 

He sat on the window ledge with the thrush on his 
shoulder. Behind his beautiful head the dim November 
stars glimmered and went out and glimmered again. 

“You were never the cheesemonger’s, were you, little 
one?” he said to the bird. “A prisoner and a captive, 
that’s what you were.” 

He turned to the Doctor. “Ishtar took me to see that 
cursed iniquity of yours, the Zoo. She thought I would 
enjoy it. She did not understand. Poor Star. And you 
can have a place like that, and yet the other day they 
were all praying in the Dust Box to their God: ‘That it 
may please Thee to have mercy on all prisoners and 
captives.’ Oh, Pen, you’ve no sense of humour. I 
wonder if your God has? If he has, He might let loose 
all the animals in the Zoo one evening.” 

Pen declined to let his imagination take such a flight. 
He resisted Copper Top’s giggle. 

“Copper Top, you must not talk about the Almighty 
having a sense of humour, and you must not call the 
chapels Dust Boxes. Why, it even makes me squirm, 
when I think of Kings.” 

“Does it?” asked Copper Top calmly. “I am glad.” 

“And why will you always say ‘you’?” Why not 
‘we’ ?” 

He liked to question the boy, and had none of the 
Professor’s respect for him in this way. He was ready 
to dig about with any clumsy weapon, so long as he did 
not alienate him, on the chance he might extract some¬ 
thing of interest, that some gateway of knowledge might 
stand for a moment ajar. 

“I do not belong to your race,” said Copper Top with 
dignity, and shuddered. He had drawn back almost 


330 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


entirely into the shadow. The light from the high-swung 
lamp gleamed only on the curve of his throat and the 
flame of his hair. 

“Old man,” said Pendlebury, very softly, “where do 
you come from?” 

Would the boy answer? He waited. Then the answer 
came quite simply. 

“I don’t know. I wish I did,” said Copper Top, out 
of the shadows. “Often—since I have grown up—I 
wonder—I wonder if I slipped in with all of you by 
accident—or if there is some purpose. When I saw 
Ishtar after we came back—the first time—she came 
through the rain—water, you know.” 

Pendlebury did not know, but he held a breathless 
peace. 

“I almost knew then. I felt standing on the edge of 
it. But it slipped away. Perhaps if she had felt the 
same just then. You can find out things together that 
you can’t find out as one.” 

There was a pause. Pendlebury was nonplussed. 

“But you are quite happy?” he asked. 

“Why, yes. I’m happy. It would be so blinking 
stupid to be anything else, wouldn’t it?” With which 
amazing statement he came back to the table. “I like 
this world ever so much. It’s beautiful. All except you 
people. I think you are all a bit mad, you know. Have 
you read ‘Gulliver’s Travels’? But of course you’ve read 
everything! I feel like him sometimes. I wonder what 
the chap who wrote it really meant?” 

“H’m, I’ve sometimes wondered too,” murmured 
Pendlebury. 

“Some of you are beautiful and have lovely things in 

you,” Copper Top added. “Ishtar-” He stopped 

and smiled, and Pendlebury could have sworn that the 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


331 


room lit up. It was not the fire, or the light from the 
swinging-lamp. He was annoyed with himself. Just the 
sort of silly thing women write in rotten books. Silly 

sickly books. But he could have sworn- Then a 

thought flashed into his mind. A sudden vision. Unlike 
the Professor he saw the full impossibility of it. He 
almost heard Lady Condor say, “Poor dear Connie.” He 
became helpless in the grip of an attack of the very worst 
giggles. Copper Top joined in. It was impossible for 
you to do otherwise, if you possessed even one sympa¬ 
thetic chord anywhere about you. Intelligent conversation 
rapidly became impossible. At ten minutes to ten Copper 
Top put the Doctor into his hat and coat, and set his 
giggling feet on the homeward path, explaining that it 
was impossible for him to be out at a later hour in his 
present condition without bringing discredit upon his grey 
hairs. 

On his way home he met Don MacClean swinging 
down Trinity Lane. 

“Hullo!” he thought. “Now surely you are in this 
gcdere too!” 

Don seized on him. “Oh, Doctor, look here. Can 
you make Copper Top come up to Fenners? Regularly, 
I mean. There isn’t a man up whom he couldn’t beat on 
the track, or the high jump, long jump too, for the matter 
of that. I know there isn’t, but—oh, you know what he 
is! There’s no one to touch him. I’ve told all the fellows, 
and of course they don’t believe because they haven’t 
seen him.” 

“He’ll never train,” said Pendlebury. 

“It doesn’t matter. He can leave anyone standing 
without that.” 

“Is that so?” Pendlebury grew quite serious. “Of 
course he ought to then. Of course he must. But I 



33 2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


haven’t an ounce of influence, my dear boy. Write to 
Godolphin. He might do it to please him. What’s his 
objection ?” 

“Goodness knows! He says, ‘Of course I run and 
jump, it’s pleasant, but why should I try to beat someone 
else?’ ” 

Pendlebury laughed. 

“Oh, he’s a freak,’’ he said. “But rather a gorgeous 
freak. I’d give something to know his antecedents, and 
I’d give more to have been the one to find him on that 
pathway.” 

Don’s eyes twinkled. “You’d have sent him to the 
Union, Doctor,” he said. “Well, good night, sir, I’ll 
have to hurry or be asking you for a note!” 

He looked in at Richard’s rooms on his way to his 
own. An argument was in progress. Richard favoured 
arguments as likely to be useful to him. They taught 
you to keep your temper, and a sharp eye on the holes 
in your opponent’s case. 

In the ordinary way, and according to precedent the 
Parliamentary career would have fallen to John. Unfor¬ 
tunately, and in spite of the fact that he had gone into 
a cavalry regiment, John had suddenly shown a disturb¬ 
ing tendency towards Socialism—“Not Bolshevism,” as 
Lady Condor explained to her intimates. “Only quite 
a mild Socialism. It is really as common as measles 
among young men. The real danger is, that they may 
marry some impossible young woman with a wild head, 
who pretends to think them a hero. That sort of thing, 
you know.” 

So, as far as a parliamentary career went Richard had 
stepped into the shoes usually reserved for the eldest son. 
Richard’s principles were sound to the core. 

MacClean propped himself up against the door-post. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


333 


There was no possible room anywhere else for his big 
frame. Also he could keep a chink of the door open to 
breathe through. After the fresh, soft night air the 
atmosphere of the room was suffocating. 

They argued upon many things at Cambridge. How 
to treat Bolshevism. Spiritualism and Psychic Phe¬ 
nomena. The Bible in the light of Modern Research. 
To-night they were arguing excitedly and in loud voices 
on “What is Greatness ?” 

A little fellow, still in his teens, was dusting the floor 
with Napoleon, and stoutly denying to any, but one who 
left the world happier than he found it, the title of Great. 
Another stoutly maintained, on the soundest principles, 
the Devil’s claim. 

MacClean laughed and plunged into the whirlpool. 

“Name the Great Men who have left the world happier 
than they found it!” he shouted. 

“Name! Name!” shouted the room in chorus. 

The champion of the Good Great stammered, staggered, 
and was lost. What names ran through his paralysed 
brain no one knew. It could be seen that he reviewed 
many, hurriedly and feverishly, and as hurriedly and 
feverishly discarded them. Amid shouts and cat-calls 
and laughter the meeting “broke up in confusion.” 

After Pendlebury had left him, Copper Top turned out 
his lamps and slipped downstairs into the dim, soft 
November night. He passed among the shadows almost 
like one of them, and went out swiftly towards the open 
country. Here he struck into the wet fields, sweet beneath 
his feet, and ran across them, jumping hedge or ditch as 
he came to it. The dogs went with him, and neither hunted 
nor barked. He moved among shadowy trees, and spoke 
with the innumerable little tiny creatures that only stir by 
night. He called as a bird calls, and little migrant horned 


334 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


owls came round and flew with him as he ran. The moon 
was high, but little clouds fled over her face one after 
the other. They came softly and greyly across the sky, 
and floated into full beauty as they crossed her path. Be¬ 
neath her shadowed radiance the silent world lay in dim 
silver peace. And at last he came to the river, where it 
idled no longer, but moved steadily through undisturbed 
fields and woods, singing quietly to itself. The thin No¬ 
vember mist drifted softly over all. He slipped his 
clothes off and stood an instant poised like some white 
bird, then the mists and the river took him to themselves. 
He loved the cold of the soft water, the strength of the 
moving flood that bore him on and on. He lay in its 
bosom, his face upturned to the drifting clouds. 
Presently they thinned, and soon the moon shone down 
undimmed, serene and full. Under her beams his white 
body gleamed like some pale flower. He sang with the 
river. Far off the clocks of Cambridge chimed the hour, 
and he laughed in his song. It was late. Only some few 
there still waked, wresting facts fiercely from hideous 
books, qualifying themselves for what weird pursuits, 
seeking what strange prizes? The others all slept, 
securely shut up. He laughed with the river and the 
moon. He swung with the world in its circle; with the 
great seas, as they gathered shouting and crashed on far 
beaches; with the winds and the clouds and the million 
stars, as they sang together. All these men asleep, shut 
up in their little dark dust-boxes. . . . 

“Days and moments quickly flying 
Blend the living with the dead, 

Soon shall you and I be lying 
Each within his narrow bed/’ 

And yet they believed- What did they believe? 

He floated with the stream. Above the moonlight 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


335 


thrilled. He caught the gleam of shadowy Presences, 
once of starry eyes. The weavers of the winds. He 
cleft the water like some great shining salmon going out¬ 
ward to the sea, and saw in the vague fields and woods 
the outlines of dim shapes that sang a murmurous song. 
The weavers of the soil. 


CHAPTER V 


Cambridge in May. The words had been singing to a 
pleasant tune in the Professor’s heart ever since February. 
It is without doubt a fact, that those three words will 
rouse the music of gay and glad memories in the hearts 
of men of different minds and different hopes and every 
age, all over the globe, memories of grey old buildings set 
in green lawns among flowering trees, memories full of 
laughter and ragging, and desperate earnestness, and in¬ 
finite possibilities. Cambridge in May. Yes, truly it has 
a pleasant sound. The Professor had continually re¬ 
pressed a continually returning desire, all through 
February and March and April, to run down to Cam¬ 
bridge, just for the night even, to see how the boy was 
getting on. Pendlebury was a fool and never wrote him 
about just what he wanted to know. Don wrote, “Don’t 
believe what old Pen tells you. Copper’s getting on Ai.” 
Copper Top never wrote at all. However, he extracted, 
by methods only known to himself, a couple of week-ends, 
and turned up at the Little House, which blazed and rang 
and purred with the warmth of his reception. Then he 
sat cross-legged as of old in front of the log fire and gave 
the Professor what was probably a unique account of 
’Varsity life. 

That he had endured it for so long, with even some 
measure of success, never ceased to astonish the Profes¬ 
sor. It was more than he had dared hope for, He daily 

336 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


337 


returned thanks. The boy was taking his place in the 
world after recognised methods, or at least appeared to 
be. He, more or less, seemed to get on well with every¬ 
body. He did not antagonise people in spite of his extra¬ 
ordinary views. This was, the Professor knew, largely 
due to the unusual amount of that admirable quality of 
tolerance which Copper Top undoubtedly possessed. 
Copper Top wondered. He puzzled. Sometimes he 
literally gasped. But always he seemed to recognise the 
other fellow’s right to his own idea of that which was 
wise and that which was foolish. The nearest thing that 
he knew to unhappiness came to him through the cruelty 
of man to weaker things. 

On the whole the Professor was more than satisfied. 
He worked still at his book, but sometimes he wondered 
if it were worth while striving to teach men. A man must 
know a thing to be true for himself or you may talk till 
you are dead. And if he knows it for himself what need 
of talk? Yet it eased his mind to put down in close-spun 
prose, ornamented by the gold gleam of wit, his feelings 
about the wretched Fetishes which Humanity worship¬ 
ped. It was indeed, curiously enough, quite good fun. 
So he wrote on, but he emerged more often than of old, 
and talked with Kathleen of the boy, and wandered in the 
woods and listened to Spring’s weaving, and watched the 
pattern grow, and was conscious of it all with every beat 
of his heart, conscious that the whole scheme of things 
was perfect. Man might go against it, he was but a 
straw in the current, he might play for ever with his 
little toys of gold, his little baubles of revenge and lust 
and hatred, of dominion and power, but he could not alter 
by one jot that great perfect scheme. With or without 
him it would accomplish itself. And he never for an in¬ 
stant suspected that he cared for poor Plumanity strug- 


338 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


gling after bits and scraps of no value, worshipping its 
foolish little Fetishes in the pit it had digged for itself. 
Still less did he suspect that he was so angry and bitter 
and disgusted because he cared so much. 

In the meantime May came at last. A beautiful May 
with all its flowering shrubs and trees a riot in the sun¬ 
shine, and the Professor trod the well-remembered ways, 
his hands behind his back and his beard at the acute angle 
which denoted supreme satisfaction. It was pleasant to 
be back in the old place. Very pleasant. He was dressed 
with unusual care. He wore a tie. Copper Top’s favour¬ 
ite colour for him, deep orange. Indeed, so far as his 
clothes were concerned he would have excited no com¬ 
ment except for his hat, which was one of those curiosi¬ 
ties the Professor had a special gift for picking up. 

But he was too well known to pass unrecognised at 
Cambridge. Many of the undergraduates looked at him. 
some saluted as they passed. Several of the queer-shaped 
black figures that are part of Cambridge stopped to greet 
him. It was all pleasant. How many years ago since 
he was part of the life here, and yet he did not feel a 
ghost. He was still part of it. He turned in at the 
great Trinity Gate under the statue of Henry VIII., 
niched in the attitude peculiar to that monarch. No, he 
was no more a ghost than were Bacon or Newton or 
Byron or Thackeray, or any of the men who had lived 
and worked and played and dreamed here. They were all 
part of the life of Cambridge too. It wouldn’t have 
seemed strange to him if any one of them had met him 
crossing the great court. He smiled to himself, thinking 
how any little undergrad would have the right to greet 
them as old friends. The sun was everywhere, blazing 
from mid-day skies. He stood blinking in it, and watched 
the silver wheel of pigeon wings around the Fountain. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


339 


Shouts of laughter came floating down from a high-up 
window. The wisteria in the far right-hand corner was 
in perfect bloom. And under it the border—yes—just 
as of old—yellow wallflowers! He walked all round to 
sniff the well-remembered scents mingled together. Had 
he noticed either at the time ? He didn’t think so. And 
yet some part of him had recorded both. He remembered. 
Yes, who was it had had those rooms, full of scent of 
wisteria and wallflowers, in his day. A fellow with ears 
that stuck out—a fellow—of course, it was Latimer—a 
fine scholar too—he made a rotten marriage—of course 
—killed at Ladysmith. He moved on, and passed into 
the far court. The long familiar lines of Wren’s great 
library stretched before him. The inside leapt into his 
conscious memory. He must visit it before he left. He 
looked at his watch. It would soon be time to meet Cop¬ 
per Top. Copper Top was attending a lecture on John 
Knox, Reformer, who interested Copper Top not at all, 
but he was “keeping” necessary things during the Profes¬ 
sor’s visit with a view to pleasing him. The Professor 
was lunching in Hall with him. They were to meet at 
twelve-fifteen sharp on Trinity Bridge. The Professor 
went under the archway of the cloisters out into the 
gracious spaces of dose-mown turf between whose banks 
the river idled its pleasant way. He propped himself 
against the bridge and revelled in the cheerful sun-bathed 
peace. The tennis courts were alive with players. There 
were many canoes and punts on the river. Boys in flannels 
and college colours and girls in bright-hued coats, bare, 
shining, silken heads, lithe limbs, laughter, and gay voices. 
The Professor watched and smiled benevolently. It was 
a good place for a boy, a good place. 

He wondered who christened the craft, noting the 
names as they passed beneath them. Mamselle Tra-la~la, 


340 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


The Spasm, The Love Nest, The Red Devil. Were they 
efforts of the boat^builder, or the man who hired them 
out? Or did they belong to private owners, who had 
risen to these poetic heights ? 

The clocks chimed from many towers. It was twelve. 
Copper Top should soon be here. He watched the arch 
beneath the library, and soon, moving swiftly across the 
sun and shadow, he saw the beloved figure. Copper Top, 
in his loose white flannels and silken shirt, his gleaming 
bronze head, his smile that lighted up the world for James 
Godolphin. 

“Oh, ’Dophin, what a morning!” he cried. “Look at 
the blessed everything. And I have spent it listening to 
poor old Kesteven mumbling long sentences about John 
Knox, who was a good man gone mad on sin. 'Dophin, 
it’s lovely seeing you here. We have just time to take 
the taste of John Knox out of my mouth before lunch. 
Come, I must show you.” 

He took the Professor’s arm. The Professor knew the 
compliment was as great as when the child’s hand used 
to slip into his. He was happy. The boy chattered and 
the sun shone and the world was a pleasant place. Copper 
Top led him down the avenue, across the stream. There 
were wonderful shadows in the water. The brilliant 
green of the weed shone out of them. The blue and 
silver of stitchwort and speedwell starred the hedges. 

“Look,” said Copper Top. It was just a beechwood 
carpet with blue-bells and rabbits parsley a I’heure exquise. 
The Professor rose to the full of the occasion uncon¬ 
sciously. He gasped. 

“My dear,” he said after a pause. “It’s—it’s not quite 
possible!” 

“It makes you shiver, doesn’t it?” whispered Copper 
Top. “Joy shivers! From the top of your head to the 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


34i 


tips of your heels. We will walk through it, ’Dophin, but 
you mustn’t talk.” 

They walked through it and the boy held his hand. He 
felt as if they dipped down into some strange depth of 
beauty and bathed in it. And there had always been 
blue-bell woods. And so many springs. How many for 
him? And he had never known before- 

“That was most good,” said Copper Top. He looked 
back into the mysterious glory through which they had 
passed. His face glowed. “You did feel it?” he 
asked. 

“A little,” said the Professor. “But that little was a 
great deal,” he added with sudden earnestness. 

“Now there is something else,” said Copper Top. 
“Then you will know, and you can come when you want. 
You will not miss the forest so much.” 

The Professor followed humbly. So far he had not 
missed the forest at all. Copper Top led him under great 
elms, across the road and through iron gateways. 

“Shut your eyes, shut them tight,” he ordered. 

It was his old child’s way when he had a surprise 
ready. 

The Professor laughed and obeyed. Copper Top led 
him round a curve. 

“Now!” he said. 

“God bless my soul!” exclaimed the Professor, and 
blinked in the fierce sunlight. 

A field of silver-white jonquils, of yellow and crimson 

and pale rose tulips- No! Silver-white jonquils and 

tulips growing in a field—a proper field of tall grasses 
and moon-daisies and buttercups. All growing together 
in friendly beauty, and the one not seeming more at home 
than the other. Blossom trees, too, lived here and there 
among them, crab-apple and double cherry. And all 




342 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


around, as guarding some sacred place, stood tall trees 
lighting their spring glory of leaf happily in the deep 
warm peace. 

Copper Top still held his hand lightly. For one magic 
moment of marvel the Professor stood and gazed. 
Colour—perfume—light—warmth—all pulsing together 

—wonderful- One needed another sense- In 

another moment—if he could only hold on—look deeper 
—feel deeper—he would surprise the secret. He could 
hear them all breathing—whispering—many coloured 
music. . . . 

The moment was gone before he could grasp it. He 
stood there blinking in the sunshine. Little ripples of 
scented breeze, of quivering light, wandered over that 
marvellous field. 

“Upon my word, it makes one feel drunk/’ he said. 
“The scent and colour—the whole astonishing thing. 
Does it—do they—I got an impression—do they sing, 
Copper Top?” 

“Sing,” echoed Copper Top. “Why, ’Dophin, look at 
the colours.” 

The Professor moved to a seat and sat down heavily. 
It was dislocating to get into Copper Top’s world in 
patches like this. It must be—of course it must be— 
equally dislocating for the boy to get into his. This 
place with Copper Top. And a couple of hours ago he 
had been reading the Times and discussing with Pen the 
sterilising of criminals. Good Lord! People were still 
discussing those sort of things—necessary discussions— 
just across the road as it were. 

He looked at Copper Top. The boy was standing a 
few feet away. Standing on the edge of that wonderful 
field. Standing on the edge of . . . ? The Professor’s 
mind moved hurriedly among various ideas. There had 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


343 


always been something about Copper Top which had 
made him think of a greyhound on a leash, of a martin 
with spread wings, yet who could not fly. . . . It was 
more noticeable, not less. Cambridge had made no dif¬ 
ference. It had not absorbed him. Did he really wish 
it had? He did not know what he wished. 

Copper Top turned and looked at him from under 
dreaming brows. Then a smile crept over his face, a 
little quizzical smile. 

“Oh ’Dophin,” he said, “you are not enjoying it!” 

“Yes, yes,” lied the Professor. “I am. It’s amazing. 
We never saw anything better, not even on the Cam- 
pagna, did we?” 

“It wouldn’t matter if we did.” Copper Top held out 
a hand and the butterflies came. The Professor watched 
him and forgot to puzzle. The first magic moment had 
passed. It was already a dream, an irrecoverable dream. 
But he enjoyed. He was sorry when the many chiming 
clocks from many towers called again. 

“Time is a confounded nuisance,” said Copper Top. 
“Why did you invent it? I’ve made your day for you, 
’Dophin. Do you mind? As soon as Hall is over Don 
and I are taking you in a punt up the river.” 

“Good,” said the Professor. “The last time . . .” 
He broke into reminiscences which lasted until they came 
again to the Backs. 

He paused in sight of King’s Chapel and looked at it 
happily. 

“It’s just like a stag-beetle,” said Copper Top following 
his gaze. 

“A stag-beetle!” echoed the Professor. “My dear boy, 
what on earth do you mean ?” 

But—the deuce and all—it was like a stag-beetle, lifting 
its horned head and looking alertly across the Backs. 


344 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“I wonder why the old chaps who built it thought of 
that,” Copper Top went on without noticing the Profes¬ 
sor’s query. “Inside they’ve got a look of trees in the 
evening-time. The glass with the sun shining through— 
that makes colours a little bit like real ones.” 

“You think it’s beautiful, though,” the Professor half 
asserted, half questioned. 

Copper Top retained all his old dislike to answering 
questions. “It is an imitation,” was all he said. “But 
they thought of beautiful things. That is always good. 
Pen has a picture of a sunset. People come to look at 
it. It is quite a good imitation. But there are real sun¬ 
sets every day.” 

They fell into the crowd of undergraduates hurrying 
and striding along, singly or in groups, laughing, talking, 
tumbling over one another. Soon they were amid the 
clatter of plates and utensils. The smell of baked meats. 
The noise of shuffling feet and moving chairs as each 
man settled into his place. 

The familiar scene broke pleasantly on the Professor. 
The lofty-roofed old Hall, brown and gold, touched here 
and there with vivid colour. The portraits of dead and 
gone celebrities of Trinity, looking down on the young 
burnished heads, the colour and movement of the life 
below. (His seat faced the well-remembered picture of 
Frederick Maurice. What a pair of eyes the fellow had. 
Who was the artist? A good man-) 

He looked round. The chat, the laughter, the clatter 
of knives and forks, the row of cheerful faces, yes—all 

pleasantly familiar. Copper Top- The fellows seemed 

to like him. Friendly jokes had been levelled at him as 
they came in, which fell away into hurried silence when 
they realised that he had a visitor with him. Evidently 
not to eat meat excited no comment here. Vegetarian 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


345 


dishes were served as a matter of course. Uncommonly 
good too! The professor enjoyed his meal. Copper Top 
had ordered a bottle of his favourite white wine, and 
strawberries and cream to finish up with. 

The sensation of being looked after by the boy was 
agreeable, very agreeable. He took his place quite well 
and naturally in this little world of college life. There 

wasn’t a man to touch him for looks—for presence- 

And here the Professor broke off and laughed at himself. 
Didn’t every father and mother think just the same about 
their boys! 

But he was very happy! He enjoyed his afternoon too. 
The three boys laughed, and chattered, and sang, and 
played the fool, and treated him with the most gratifying 
affection and respect. 

Above the water meadows the larks flooded the radiance 
with ecstatic hallelujahs. Great stretches of pale cuckoo 
flowers and shining marsh marigolds flashed into beauty 
and passed away. Little silver birch woods whispered, 
and green lady willows drooped to the river, as it idled 
its pleasant way between its flowered banks. Had he 
ever noticed in the old days how exquisite it was? 

The serene grey pinnacles of Kings disappeared from 
the horizon, and little Grantchester—alas! dear Rupert 
Brooke—with its apple orchards still in bloom, drifted by. 
Now they were in the shallows and the punt grounded 
suddenly and heavily. Richard, laughing and swearing, 
shoved her off, and she struck again in about two minutes. 
Don made uncomplimentary remarks concerning Rich¬ 
ard’s methods. He seized the pole. “If you keep your 

eye upon what you are doing you will notice-” he 

began, and grounded well and truly for the third time. 

Then pandemonium reigned while the two fell into the 
bottom of the punt and struggled for possession of the 




346 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

pole, and Copper Top sang the Saga of the fight above 
them. 

Spent with much laughter, and splashed with much 
water, the Professor was at last convoyed into the safety 
of* Byron’s Pool, and there he had a chat with Don Mac- 
Clean while Richard and Copper Top skirmished about 
in the water. 

“Oh, old Copper gets on quite well,’’ Don assured him. 
“Nobody takes him seriously, of course. You can’t, you 
know. And he doesn’t work. But I suppose you don’t 
mind that?’’ 

“No,’’ said the Professor. “I don’t quite know what 
he could work at that would be of any use to him.” 

“What shall you put him into, sir?” asked Don. 

“Well,” said the Professor, and stopped. “You see,” 
he went on after a moment, “he’ll have enough to live 
on.” 

Don looked respectfully doubtful. 

“A fellow ought to work at something,” he suggested. 

“Yes,” agreed the Professor, and looked guilty. “But 
what would you suggest?” 

“It is a bit difficult,” owned Don. “I could give him 
some agent’s work up at my place, only—well, you 
couldn’t very well put him on a sporting estate. He’d 
pal on with the grouse and the curlew, and as for the 
deer-” 

“Exactly,” said the Professor. “And farming presents 
the same difficulty.” 

“I suppose he could do something with his music,” 
suggested Don, but doubtfully. “I don’t mean as a public 
singer. I’d hate that for him. But composing songs— 
and that sort of thing, you know. It’s not much of a 
profession, of course, but Doctor Pendlebury thinks he’d 
be rather good at it.” 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


347 


Don’s square handsome face was full of an earnest 
and most serious desire to help. He loved Copper Top. 

The Professor strangled a smile and nodded gratefully. 

“It would be something to fall back on anyway,” added 
Don. 

“You talk to him about these things? About following 
some profession?” asked the Professor. 

“Well you can’t somehow—at least not sensibly,” 
explained Don. “He never seems a bit interested in him¬ 
self you know. That’s what’s so queer. You can’t get 
him to consider how a thing will affect him. He’s only 
interested in the thing.” 

“How does he get on with the other fellows?” asked 
the Professor. 

“Oh, very well on the whole. They like him, I think. 
He’s made one or two bad enemies though.” 

“Ah!” said the Professor. 

“There’s one who might be dangerous. I keep an eye 
on him. He’s the sort of chap you never know. He 
hoards a thing up, and pays you out when he can. 
He’s got influence too, with a certain set. He tried to 
take old Copper up. Liked his music, and all that you 
know.” 

“What happened?” asked the Professor. 

“Well, of course you can’t take Copper up. And Blox- 
some’s a bit of a conceited ass. Then there was some¬ 
thing about a book he lent Copper. A pretty rotten 
book,” Don explained hurriedly. “Copper stuffed it into 
the fire, and of course there was a bit of a shindy-” 

“Ah!” exclaimed the Professor again, and leant for¬ 
ward. 

“Well, I wasn’t there, you know, but the story is that 
Bloxsome lost his temper and went for Copper, and jolly 
well got the worst of it.” 



348 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

The Professor leant back again and radiated satisfac¬ 
tion. 

“A good thing I taught him to put up his fists/’ he 
said, and chuckled. “What was the end of the affair?” 

“Oh, Copper’s forgotten all about it, I fancy. But 
Bloxsome hasn’t, and he never will. If he ever gets a 
chance he’ll pay Copper out. He’s built that way. But 
you needn’t worry. Copper can look after himself all 
right. Besides, Richard and I keep an eye on him.” 

He stood up and stretched. 

“I think, if you don’t mind, sir, I’ll have a swim.” 

The Professor watched him strip and dive. What a 
beautiful thing the human body was, in perfection. 
Presently he heard cheerful shouts of welcome, and then 
Copper Top, like some gleaming fish, came cleaving the 
water towards him. 

“Why aren’t you coming, ’Dophin?” he called. 

Why? The Professor hesitated. He was a Professor. 
An old man. At College Professors did not do these 
things in their old age. But why not? All contorted— 
doubled up—rheumatism—sciatica—caught cold easily. 
The Professor shook his beard and blinked. Was Cam¬ 
bridge already absorbing him ? He would not be 
absorbed. He yelled back a defiant “Coming,” stripped, 
and plunged in. 

That evening the Fellows of Magdalen gave a great 
dinner in his honour. They all, more or less, made 
speeches, and the Professor responded to the toast of the 
evening, not suitably, but typically. His audience rocked 
with joy, and Pendlebury offered his portrait to the Col¬ 
lege if the authorities would have the courage to hang it. 

“A misguided man. But how full of humour, and 
what a brain!” said one of the Deans to another as they 
went home together, pleasantly entertained and replete. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


349 


The Professor and Pendlebury sat on in the exquisitely 
panelled sitting-room of the Fellows overlooking the 
garden, and agreed that Copper Top must have a profes¬ 
sion. 

Unfortunately they had also to agree that when Copper 
Top presented an obstacle to any proposition it was always 
an unsurmountable one. 

“It’s like he is over sports or games, you know,’’ said 
the Doctor. “He’ll do anything for the joy of doing it, 
but to win, or to gain something, well he doesn’t seem 
able to see why he should want to do any of these things, 
or what use they are. You can’t make him see. It’s some 
sense he lacks, and there you are. As to fame or money, 
you might as well talk about bits of straw or stick. And, 
Jimmy, the boy’s got a mine of both in his music. 

“Ah, Don said something about that. And you really 
think-’’ 

“My dear fellow! Surely you know the boy is an 
original genius. He ought to be able to compose music 
that would shake Europe!” 

“Yes. Yes. I know!’’ The Professor clutched his 
beard. “To create. He would understand that. He 
would think that worth while.” 

Pendlebury laughed. “Perhaps. I don’t know. You 
can’t hold out the usual inducements to Copper Top. To 
hear your own compositions played on one of our best 
orchestras—well just think of it. I’ve had a few songs 
published—but that Opera of mine—I’d die happy—if I 
could hear it produced at Covent Garden—or anywhere— 
just once! I’d die happy.” 

The Professor nodded. “I remember when I got the 
proof sheets of my first book,” he murmured. 

“Well, suggest that inducement to the boy and he’ll only 
smile at you. Positively he is not in the least interested 



350 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


in a thing because it is his, or because he'll get anything 
out of it. He’s only interested in the thing itself.” 

“Yes, I know,” said the Professor. 

“Then he does not approve of our instruments. He 
more or less dislikes a piano, I believe. I—well sometimes 
I’m tempted to believe he hears an orchestra compared to 
which ours are like Toy Symphonies performed by the 
ladies of the parish at a Charity Concert!” 

“Oh, so you think too—” The Professor stopped. 
The two men looked at each other. 

Then Pendlebury burst out: “Look here, we’ve got 
hold of something pretty wonderful, I fancy, and we 
can’t get anything out of it. Nothing tangible. It in¬ 
trigues me beyond words, but if the boy can tell you, he 
won’t, so there it is. What is genius, anyway? Who 
knows? Music is our only chance. Jimmy, I’m dead 
keen on his taking up music seriously.” 

“Errmph!” grunted the Professor. “Just to satisfy 
your little curiosity.” 

“No it isn’t,” protested Pendlebury. “It’s not my little 
curiosity. It’s the larger sort. Besides, the boy ought 
to have some work to do.” 

The Professor grunted again. “What is the ordinary 
training for a composer?” he asked. 

“Three years at counterpoint and harmony. Then as 
many more at orchestration. I got him to do some 
exercises with me. Of course, with an ear like his, 
teaching him harmony is teaching him something he 
knows already. And Harmony is a Natural Law. I find 
he has a profound respect for Natural Laws.” 

“It is only the fool who hasn’t. Well, Pen, I’ll have 
a talk with him.” 

A shadow darkened the light behind them. 

“Come out,” said Copper Top’s voice. “It is a night 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 351 

of May nights, and there is a nightingale singing in your 
garden.” 

“Copper Top! How did you get in?” 

“Up the big elm tree and along the top of the wall.” 

“Did anyone see you?” 

“They didn’t make a row if they did. Besides, I’m 
calling on you.” Copper Top grinned mischievously. 
“Aren’t you coming out?” 

“No, but we’ll come and sit in the window.” 

“Can you see the moon from there? Yes. All right 
then.” 

He sat himself on the window-sill with the moon 
peeping in over his shoulder. Pendlebury could have 
sworn she winked. 

“I came along to tell you I’ve been singing in the Chapel 
with Gimpy. He wanted to practise. I knew you’d be 
pleased. I sang Adeste Fideles. Only we had no voices 
for the chorus.” 

“You don’t mind singing that?” asked Pendlebury. 

“No. It does praise—in a small way, you know—like 
you do everything. I could have sung it better outside. 
But the moon was shining in wherever she got a chance, 
so it wasn’t so bad.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked the Professor. “I 
should have liked to hear you.” 

“But you were being entertained at dinner,” answered 
Copper Top. “And all of you talking at once. And did 
you make a good speech, and behave yourself properly, 
and not tell anyone the truth about things?” 

“I spoke with my usual wit and wisdom,” replied the 
Professor. “And Pen made the most famous after- 
dinner speech in all his famous after-dinner career. You 
lost a great deal by not accepting your invitation. Copper 
Top, we have been talking about you.” 


352 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Copper Top looked from one to the other. “I believe 
you two often do,” he said. 

“I want you to take up music seriously, old chap,” 
the Professor continued. “As a profession, you know. 
I want you to learn to write music, so that you can give 
what you hear to others—to the world.” 

“What I hear,” repeated Copper Top. “But that would 
be just imitating, it would not be my own. It would 
be like that.” He nodded towards a perfect little sunset 
picture by Corot on the wall opposite him. “There are 
a thousand sunsets every night better than that. Real. 
And as to music, I take what stuff I want and weave my 
own patterns.” 

“Well, give us your weaving then. Write it down for 
us. And why should you not imitate what is beautiful?” 

Copper Top was looking again at the sky, where the 
stars were coming out one by one to keep the moon 
company. He did not answer for a moment, and both 
men waited. Against the night sky his profile took on an 
almost unearthly transparency and beauty. It looked as 
if made out of moon “stuff.” 

Then, “We never did,” he murmured. “We created 

_ n 

He stopped, and the silence fell and fell with the moon¬ 
beams. Neither the Professor nor Pendlebury dared to 
break it. Would he tell them more? 

But after a while he only turned a puzzled look on 
them. He looked tired, and Copper Top was never tired. 

“I will think about it,” he said. 

“But-” began Pendlebury, and yelled. The Profes¬ 

sor had kicked him with violence. Most unnecessary vio¬ 
lence. The lightest touch would have been quite sufficient. 

“That’s good, old man,” said the Professor. “I wish 
I had heard you sing in Chapel to-night.” 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


353 


“I sing much better where you do hear me,” answered 
Copper Top. “I can’t make out why you like your music 
in such horrid places. Even if you must be shut up, you 
might make them beautiful. Pen made me go with him 
to a concert at the Guild Hall. Oh, ’Dophin, have you 
seen its inside? I’m going to sing the anthem for Gimpy 
next Sunday, though. Why don’t you stay?” 

“Of course I’ll stay,” said the Professor. “What is 
the anthem?” 

“It’s by Mendelssohn. It’s quite good,” replied Cop¬ 
per Top calmly, and Pendlebury ceased to nurse his shin 
and his injured feelings, and giggled. “It’s Tf with all 
your hearts ye truly seek me, ye shall ever truly find me, 
saith your God.’ And those are true words. Not like 
some of them. At least I do not know about your God. 
He is such a curious one.” 

“Copper Top, there is only one God.” 

“That is also true,” said Copper Top gravely. “But 
I expect you make imitations of Him, just like you do of 
everything, and your imitation God is a very curious 
one. You both think so really, don’t you? So why do 
you pretend to me ?” 

He stood up, and stretched his full length, with his 
hands behind his head. He was uncannily like—what 
was he like ? And he smiled down at them both, gleefully, 
with a child’s delight in their discomfiture. 

“I am going. I will think about the music,” he said, 
and vanished over the window-sill. 

“Copper Top!” Pendlebury leant out of the window 
and called after him in a portentous whisper. “You 
must have a note from me. Copper Top!” 

But Copper Top was gone. Only two notes, that might 
have been a bird’s, came floating back to him, mocking, 
tantalising, indescribably sweet: “Good night.” 


CHAPTER VI 


The Professor stayed on. So did the wonderful 
weather. The sun blazed down out of cloudless skies. 
The flowers continued to riot in extravagant profusion. 
He wandered about happily; watched cricket matches, 
played croquet with Pendlebury, looked in at all the book 
shops, and spent hours at the Fitzwilliam Museum. 

Sunday duly arrived and he and Pendlebury strolled 
down to Trinity in good time for service. In the ante- 
chapel where Newton and Bacon sit with Macaulay and 
Tennyson in cold white state, the Verger received them 
with respectful effusion, and allowed them to choose 
their own seats. 

The Professor had not been inside a church for many 
a long year. He remembered the smell at once; it was 
just the same. A curious smell. It seemed connected in 
the same queer way with the dim light. “Dim religious 
light/’ Why must religious light be dim? Was the 
smell—? Almost unconsciously he had found his way 
into his old seat. He knelt down, bent his head, and 
put his left hand over his eyes. Old long-forgotten 
words of prayer came to his mind and checked his wan¬ 
dering thoughts. He began to recapture something of 
the attitude of the boy who had striven in this Chapel 
after a sense of his own utter sinfulness and unworthiness 
in the sight of God. After a right understanding of 
God’s infinite goodness and mercy. Again the difficulty 
of reconciling the two gripped him. The boy had been 


354 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


355 


so desperately in earnest—had tried so hard—he thought 
of him with pity as if he had been someone else. Well, 
so he was. What connection was there between that 
struggling, enthusiastic, red-headed young fellow and 
himself? 

Again, instinctively, he checked his wandering 
thoughts. More old-remembered words of prayer 
came back to him and clicked through his mind. He sat 
up and looked round. Slowly everything came back to 
him except the feeling that here he would find help, com¬ 
fort, light. Now—it was strange—the very atmosphere, 
hanging heavily, almost tangibly, seemed to choke him. 

He recognised the old familiar figures in the windows, 
the wall paintings. Copper Top would like the paintings. 
They were all trees. Only they weren’t very like trees! 
They were dead, stiff-looking caricatures. He looked up 
at the flat roof. The sunshine failed to penetrate any¬ 
where. The whole place seemed filled with gold dust. 

The voluntary began. Deep soft notes, that rose and 
fell and soared, rousing echoes far up above. The still 
dead air shook and thrilled, and as it did so, somehow 
the Professor felt a sense of relief. The vestry door 
opened and the choir filed slowly in, bringing with them 
one long shaft of light in which the dust assumed a 
strange life of its own. The Professor and Copper Top 
mutually caught sight of each other, and Copper Top 
screwed up his nose and made a little grimace. The 
choir and the officiating clergy moved into their seats, 
the last echoes of the voluntary died away, and the service 
began. 

The Professor tried to follow it. When did the 
anthem come? By the end of the Psalm he was be¬ 
ginning to feel horribly nervous. David, in terse and 
excellent English, was calling down abomination of every 


356 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


description on the head of the evil doer. He wondered 
what Copper Top was thinking. Pendlebury was sing¬ 
ing lustily, and appeared to be enjoying himself. 

The lesson followed. The wonderful story of Ruth. 
Copper Top would like it. Pendlebury was nodding. 
He would be asleep in another minute. He had eaten 
far too much for lunch. 

At last the first notes of the anthem sounded. Every 
one stood up. The Professor saw Copper Top throw his 
head back. Instinctively he looked up too, and, to his 
astonishment, far above, flitting among the gold dust, 
his eyes caught the rhythmic flit of a bird’s wings glancing 
to and fro. How on earth-? 

The organist paused, waiting for a brief beat of time, 
and in that pause Copper Top began to sing. 

The organ stopped suddenly on a note that was half 
begun. 

“God bless my—” began the Professor, and choked. 
Pie looked at Pendlebury with agonised eyes, and Pendle¬ 
bury looked at him with a half-shake of his head, and 
Copper Top sang, unaccompanied. 

A curious rustle passed over the choir and spread to 
the congregation. At last it penetrated to the Dean. 
His head emerged from between his shoulders and he 
looked round tortoise-wise. 

The golden voice rang on. The dim walls of the 
Chapel seemed to yield before it. Everything glad and 
fresh, sweet and wild, was making music over all the 
world. The rustling ceased. No one moved any more. 

The Professor would have been in a state of frantic 
anxiety but that an extraordinary lightness of heart 
overtook him and carried him out of the reach of any 
such useless thing. An amazing joyousness bubbled up 
within him from some secret unknown fount. He wanted 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


357 


to sing too. Everybody ought to sing! Even the Dean. 
He caught sight of his bald head, still extended tortoise- 
wise. He was evidently disturbed—perplexed. An 
insane desire to laugh seized the Professor. He looked 
at Pendlebury out of the corner of his eye. The Doctor 
was leaning back in his seat, beaming with a delight 
that bordered upon ecstasy. 

The song soared up and up. Surely in another moment 
it would be beyond the reach of human ears. Indescrib¬ 
ably joyous, almost unbearably sweet. The Professor 
drew a long breath. Joy! Happiness! Adoration! 
Beyond Sensation, beyond Thought. Then a great 
silence that hovered above his head like a benediction. 
God bless the boy! 

There was a sigh, a rustle, as the congregation moved 
simultaneously. They moved uneasily. The thought 
recurred. “What had happened?” Clearly they had 
not been listening to “sacred” music. The spell lifted. 
This extraordinary exhilaration in church, was it not 
rather odd. Curious eyes were turned towards the Dean. 
His head was again between his shoulders. Now he was 
droning something on one note. 

The Professor began to wonder. His anxiety re¬ 
turned. What was everybody thinking, more especially 
the Dean? 

He was still wondering when he found himself outside 
in the sunshine, and stood, almost unconsciously, revel¬ 
ling in it. After all, if the boy had sung something that 
could not exactly be described as “sacred” music, did 
it really matter? And was not Joy a most fit offering at 
the altar? The scent of the wisteria and wallflower rose 
up like incense under the hot sun. The pigeon cooed 
above the fountain in dreamy peace. 

“Did you see the Dean’s face?” asked Pendlebury, 


358 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

and giggled. “But what a song! What a voice! I 
wonder what Gimper thought of it? The Verger is 
dreadfully upset! Hullo, MacClean! What did you 
think of it?” 

The little man was undoubtedly excited. The music 
had gone to his head like wine. He had an intense de¬ 
sire to sing and shout. Don looked troubled. 

“I think, you know, it was a mistake,” he said. “It 
wasn’t the sort of thing to do in church.” 

Richard Moresby joined them. The expression on his 
face left no doubt that he was in full agreement with 
Don. 

“What on earth possessed Copper to sing something 
secular?” he asked. “There’ll be no end of a row.” 

“It was that beastly bird set him off,” said Don. 
“I wonder how it got in.” 

“Bird?” 

“Didn’t you see it? It was flying about in the roof.” 

The Dean emerged in an apparently irritable conversa¬ 
tion with the organist. Mr. Gimper was a tall thin man, 
with a pair of lambent eyes above an enormous nose and 
an almost entire lack of chin. He was endeavouring to 
sooth the Dean. But the Dean appeared unsoothable. 
He acknowledged the respectful salutations of the little 
group curtly. His head was darting from side to side as 
he walked, his tongue darted with it, taking each corner 
of his mouth in turn. 

“I’ll have a talk with him later, when he’s cooled 
down,” said Pendlebury. “But he’ll have Copper Top 
up to-morrow for a certainty.” His eyebrow twitched. 
“I’d give something to be there,” he added. 

“Where is Copper Top?” asked the Professor, 
anxiously. 

“We’re to meet him at Trinity Raft, sir,” answered 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


359 


Don. “We’re going up the river, and you’re all having 
supper with me afterwards.” 

“Yes, yes,” said the Professor. “Of course! I had 
forgotten. Pen, if you don’t behave you will be left 
behind.” 

“I don’t care,” said Pendlebury perversely. “I want 
a voice like Copper Top’s. I want to be able to sing. 
We are all much too serious. God loveth a cheerful liver. 
Don’t look so glum, Jimmy. I will talk to the Dean. 
He has a human side, though he is quite unaware of it 
himself. Nothing more will happen than that Copper 
Top will get a wigging, which he won’t give a row of 
pins for, to-morrow morning.” 

But something else did happen, for Mr. Bloxsome saw 
his chance to repay Copper Top with interest for the 
burning of his book, and his subsequent defeat with 
ignominy. Already the College was humming with vari¬ 
ous more or less garbled accounts of what had happened 
at the afternoon service. Bloxsome found no difficulty 
in convincing quite a number of people that Copper Top 
had been guilty of an intentional insult. Indeed the 
suggestion ran, as an ill suggestion generally does, like 
fire on a sun-scorched heath. He also found no difficulty 
in getting a large band of helpers together to teach young 
Godolphin a salutary lesson. 

Between them they collected: 

2 lbs. of Black Treacle. 

2 lbs. Golden Syrup. 

2 lbs. of Margarine. 

3 Bottles of Green Ink. 

i Bottle of Cherry Blossom Boot Polish, Black 

i Sackful of Cut Grass. 


360 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

Bloxsome himself would be the “smarmer” in chief. 
He smiled contentedly as he surveyed the preparations. 
The programme included a ducking in the Fountain, a 
smarming with the various condiments collected, and 
running the gauntlet of an avenue of stalwarts each 
armed with a pail of water. 

Bloxsome contemplated a vision of Copper Top’s 
beautiful shining body after he had dealt with it, and 
purred with satisfaction. He was aware of the supper 
party. Everything played into his hands. 

It broke up early, for both Don and Richard were going 
in for a “Trip” in History. There was only a bare 
fortnight before the exam, and both were “sapping” 
with the desperate vigour belonging to that period. 

After supper, in the neat little lecture of about ten 
minutes, the Professor proved to them that to go in 
for a Tripos in History was not only waste of time that 
could valuably be spent otherwise, but was also positively 
injurious to the mind in various ways besides that of 
giving you confused, and in many cases totally incorrect 
ideas on the subject dealt with. This was a very serious 
matter, because History, when intelligently studied, was 
our only means of knowing what to avoid and what to 
strive after in the matter of governing nations. 

A Tripos in Law was even more to be condemned. It 
taught and encouraged the methods employed since the 
War by the various Governments of Europe at various 
Conferences. Conferences which had darkened counsel, 
confused issues, and were rapidly making a fresh War 
more inevitable. 

He would probably have continued to knock down 
fetishes like nine-pins for some considerable time, just 
for the pleasure of watching the mingling of mystifi¬ 
cation, disapproval, and amusement on MacClean’s and 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


361 


Moresby’s faces, had Pendlebury’s delight been less 
noticeable. The Doctor was still under the spell of 
Copper Top’s song. He was in his very finest form, and 
made an after supper speech that he chuckled over for 
many days, and related its best points to all his friends. 

The incident of the song in Chapel was not alluded to. 
Copper Top had been so entirely innocent of the fact 
that he had done anything that he ought not to have 
done, and had so eagerly demanded if they had liked it, 
that no one had the heart to tell him that half the College 
was shocked, and that the Dean was probably talking 
of irreverence if not of Profanity. 

“You see,” Copper Top explained, “it isn’t often 
possible to sing that song when you are shut up in a lot 
of dust. So it seemed rather a pity not to.” 

The Trinity clock was just striking the quarter to 
eleven as the whole party went down the old stone stair¬ 
way that led from MacClean’s rooms into the centre 
court, stumbling and tumbling over one another in the 
dark. Only Copper Top, who possessed a cat-like vision, 
ran down easily in front of the others. 

As he reached the passage there came a sudden rush 
of feet, a number of figures moved swiftly among the 
shadows, and masked faces closed round him. One 
moment the passage looked like a football scrimmage, 
the next it was empty. 

Don, who was behind his guests, holding a guttering 
candle above his head in a polite attempt to light them 
down the stairs, suddenly hurled it from him, and dashed 
past them. 

“They’ve got Copper,” he shouted. “Come on, Dick!” 

At the bottom of the stairs he ran into the red-headed 
youth who had dealt so roughly with Napoleon. 

“What’s the game, Murray?” he asked. 


362 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

“They’re mad because of that Chapel stunt this after¬ 
noon,” said Murray hurriedly, as they ran along together. 
“They’re going to smarm him and duck him in the 
Fountain. I only just heard. I was coming to warn 
you.” 

“Bloxsome of course?” 

“He started it.” 

The three tore out into the court. The Professor and 
Pendlebury hurried after them. 

“They won’t hold Copper Top long, if I know any¬ 
thing about him,” said the Professor, and chuckled. 

But Don knew this was no friendly rag. Bloxsome 
meant mischief. 

Outside a complete full moon hung in a cloudless sky 
above the great court. From every doorway hurrying 
figures passed out and ran hither and thither, laughing 
and calling. The whole place had become suddenly alive. 
A crowd surged towards the Fountain. On its steps 
the masked group were already busy, and Don’s great 
shoulders cleft an urgent way towards them. 

Then, suddenly, a great roar went up. 

Copper Top had sprung into one of the arches of the 
Fountain, stark naked as on the day he was born. 

Yet he was clothed. Clothed in that most excellent 
garment, Beauty. A Beauty of so radiant and majestic 
a quality that the shouting died away before it. 

Below, Don and Richard fought the masked men. 
Soon their preparations of treacle, ink, and paint, were 
seized and used as weapons against them. The Pro¬ 
fessor, as soon as he arrived on the scene, joined in the 
scrimmage, and wielded a tin of golden syrup and a 
paint brush well and effectively. Pendlebury, who, now 
he knew that Copper Top was safe from indignity, was 
enjoying the whole affair enormously, meditated clamber- 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


363 


ing to another archway and making a speech. While he 
dallied with the fascinating idea, Copper Top began to 
laugh. 

It was the old delightful infectious laugh of the child. 
It ran across the upturned faces, rippling with the moon¬ 
light, and flooded the whole great court with mirth. In 
another moment the whole crowd was laughing with 
him, and Bloxsome, hard-pressed with his own weapons, 
cursed with a vigour and exhaustiveness that rejoiced the 
hearts of his opponents. 

Then Copper Top’s mood changed, even while they 
laughed. 

“What was wrong with my song?” he said, and his 
golden voice carried like a clear bell. “Why did you not 
like it in your Church ? It was the song of all Creation, 
to Him”—he bent his head with a very real and gracious 
reverence—“who made it. Don’t you see that everything 
must join in, because only the voice of the Whole is great 
enough to praise Him.” 

A voice rose up out of the listening crowd. “Sing 
your song.” 

Copper Top hesitated. He looked down over the sea of 
faces. They were earnest. They shone with a clean 
light. 

Other voices took up the cry. “Sing your song.” 

And Copper Top sang. Softly at first, while the moon¬ 
lit court filled with scent of newly-turned earth, of 
bracken in wet sunlit woods, of purple heather on wide 
moors, of salt seas tossed in the wind, of flowers hot in 
the sun, of kine in dewy pastures, to each man as was his 
love. 

Then the song rose, and with it some strange spiritual 
wind, a secret whisper in each man’s heart, warm and 
sweet and very close. The song filled with colour. The 


364 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


colour of all the sunrises in the world, holding high 
festival. It was the mating song of all desirous things 
creating in harmony. Everything was singing, from the 
stones beneath their feet to the moon and the stars swing¬ 
ing above, singing to the same great rhythm. Every¬ 
thing was singing! They were singing themselves! 
From some inner centre of being, as a bird, after long 
captivity in darkness might sing, freed to the sun and 
the air and the courage of its wings. 

And then it was all over. The white figure had disap¬ 
peared. There was a momentary queer hush. A few 
moved away very quietly. One looked at another. Typi¬ 
cally they began to resent having given way to a great 
emotion, and the tension broke into a roar of applause, 
into shouts for Copper Top. Improvised instruments 
made awful sounds, groups began to scrimmage, and in 
another moment the whole great court was filled with 
a babel of voices and a moving sea of figures. 

Pendlebury sat on the Fountain steps and rocked him¬ 
self to and fro, still obvious to all but the song. 

“Great Scott,” he muttered to himself as he rocked. 
“But it’s unbelievable—he’s a sorcerer—a witch—what’s 
the masculine?—a wizard—he could wake the soul of 
an oyster—he could hypnotise dragons. And he doesn’t 
care a damn—not a damn! He can sing like an angel 
of God in an earthly skin—and he doesn’t care! Where’s 
Jimmy?” 

Copper Top, who had slipped through the crowd like 
a flash, made for the entrance to Don’s rooms in search 
of clothing, and found it blocked by the figure of the 
Dean, no less, in the company of a guest who had been 
dining with him, a celebrated Professor of Pathology 
from the University of Edinburgh. There was nothing 
concerning the result of disease within the human body 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


365 


that he had not studied. Like the Dean, he was bent 
with years of sedentary work, his eyes peered under 
heavy brows, out of a face that was set on to his body at 
what seemed an acutely uncomfortable angle. Both men 
stared at the apparition which suddenly confronted them. 

A totally naked human body. 

The Dean’s face darkened, his head shot out from be¬ 
tween his shoulders. 

Quite naked. It did happen. A rag. Of course. But 
the young fellow showed no shame—he was not even 
embarrassed. He was actually smiling—treating the in¬ 
cident with levity. Most unseemly. 

Copper Top stood before them straight, white, and 
very naked, and continued to smile. It was a kindly 
smile. He felt the joy of his own elastic swift body, and 
he was sorry for these two poor crumped-up misshapen 
figures who blinked at him out of bleared eyes with such 
severity. 

“Go to your rooms at once,” spluttered the Dean. 
“This exhibition is-” 

What it was Copper Top never learnt, for a little group 
who had caught sight of him, shining whitely in the gloom 
of the archway, came charging down like a pack of 
hounds after a fox, yelling as they came. He slipped 
edgeways between the two black figures in front of him, 
and from the stairs above revelled joyfully while the 
hunt precipitated itself into their arms and scattered with 
unbelievable speed. 

The Dean and his friend, recovering from this second 
shock, moved out into the full moonlight, and were 
immediately confronted by another group, who supported 
Dr. Pendlebury, spent with emotion and much laughter, 
and Professor James Godolphin in his shirt-sleeves, hat¬ 
less, queerly spotted, and still brandishing a stalwart 



366 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


paint brush from which dripped a sinister looking liquid. 

“Really men in their position-” 

The Dean struggled with his feelings for a moment, 
then burst into wild cackles of laughter. 

Laughter, overwhelming and comprehensive, held the 
whole party. They rocked, they wept, they ached with 
it. Pendlebury hid his face behind the Professor’s 
shoulder and sobbed. 

The Dean was the first to recover himself. 

“But I disapprove—I disapprove thoroughly,” he 
snorted, between recurring cackles. “You had better 
come back with me until you are fit to be seen. A little 
hot water, Godolphin, and I will lend you a coat and hat. 
Perhaps a glass of port-” 

He led the way, ignoring, with what dignity he could, 
the various radiantly entertained faces that hovered in 
the background. The Edinburgh Professor returned 
with them. The Dean’s port was of a vintage that made 
it improvident not to accept every invitation to drink it. 
Besides he had not laughed so heartily for years. Not 
since he had been an Undergrad himself—certainly not 
since he married. 

Over the port something of Copper Top’s history was 
revealed to the Dean. He listened with considerable in¬ 
terest, and imparted his views to Pendlebury while the 
other two discussed the disease of Civilisation with so 
much violence that had a murder been planned beside 
them they would have been perfectly unconscious of it. 

“The boy’s peculiarities are entirely due to his bringing 
up,” pronounced the Dean. “It is quite enough to ac¬ 
count for all of them. Mad—the whole thing—mad! 
And of course it is in the nature of a calamity for any 
lad to be brought up by a man with Godolphin’s views. 
A brilliant brain—amazing—but on the border line.” 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


367 


The Dean lowered his voice and looked significant. “I 
understand the boy might do well if he were not so 
uncontrolled. A fine athlete too. I have sent for him 
to-morrow morning. The incident of the song in 
Chapel is serious—very serious. He must be dealt with 
severely on that account-” 

“He had not the smallest idea of being irreverent, you 
know—” began Pendlebury. 

“Then the sooner he has some idea the better,” said 
the Dean rather sharply. Pendlebury must not think that 
because he laughed in that absurd way just now- 

“Did you happen to hear him singing in the court this 
evening?” asked the Doctor. 

“No,” said the Dean. “I am aware he has a fine 
voice, but as you know I am not musical,” he added 
somewhat coldly. He had rather a strong objection to 
what he called “The Artistic Temperament.” 

Copper Top turned up for his interview the next 
morning properly clothed. Don and Richard saw to it 
that he did. But all their efforts did not succeed in get¬ 
ting him there in time. 

“You are five minutes late,” said the Dean severely, 
glancing at his big gold watch. 

“Yes, sir,” acquiesced Copper Top. 

He looked at him with sympathy. Of course, poor old 
chap, he was always having to be in time for something. 

The Dean waited a moment for the apology which 
ought to have followed, but Copper Top continued to 
regard him with that queer, disinterested look of his, and 
presently the Dean actually began to feel uncomfortable. 
Perhaps it was because of that most improper reversal of 
the order of things that he spoke rather more forcibly 
than he would otherwise have done. Copper Top lis¬ 
tened and was frankly bored. The Dean was talking 




368 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


the most awful nonsense. “Light music in a sacred edi¬ 
fice.” What did he mean by “light music”? “Desecra¬ 
tion of God’s House.” “The sin against the Holy 
Ghost.” What did he mean? 

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” asked the 
Dean finally. 

“No, sir,” answered Copper Top, absentmindedly. 
He had been looking round. The room reminded him a 
little of ’Dophin’s at the Little House, and there was a 
ripping lilac bush just outside the window. “I say, you 
know,” he added cheerfully, “this is the jolliest sitting- 
room I’ve seen in Cambridge.” 

“Really!” exclaimed the Dean to himself. 

But among the Dean’s weaknesses his library was 
easily first. And after all one could not be too hard 
on a boy who has had the misfortune to be brought up 
by James Godolphin. 

“Yes, yes,” he said, rather as he might have spoken 
to a child. “But I must ask you to attend to what I am 
saying. I must have your apology and an assurance that 
you will not offend in this way again.” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Copper Top. There were some 
delightfully busy buzzing bees in the lilac bush. He put 
out his hand, and those same bees, all honey laden, de¬ 
serted their business and came booming in and settled on 
it. 

The Dean instinctively got up to help, and had hur¬ 
riedly arranged his handkerchief as a flail before he 
realised that the bees were on the friendliest possible 
terms with this most extraordinary youth. 

“Of course—yes—Pendlebury had said-” 

As it happened the Dean was interested in bees. In¬ 
deed he almost deserved the noble name of “Aparian.” 
In his garden were two hives of the latest pattern. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 369 

Undoubtedly these were his own bees. He ceased to 
admonish and cautiously approached. 

Ten minutes later the Professor, patrolling a lane out¬ 
side an aggressively high wall (it had not looked well to 
be seen waiting in the court) heard on the other side of it 
a well-known voice, and another—yes—the Dean’s! The 
conversation was certainly friendly, almost intimate. 
They were laughing- 

The Professor unwrung his beard and chuckled. God 
bless the boy! 

He went back to the Little House that afternoon, and 
late in the evening, so late that the earth was all folded 
up in darkness and a slender sickle moon hung in the sky, 
Copper Top walked in with Little Wolf and Terrier 
Puppy panting at his heels. 

“I thought it best,” he explained airily. ‘‘The Dean 
and I are the best of friends. I like him when he is with 
his bees. But if I stayed on just now I have the feeling 
that I’d be sure to sin against the Holy Ghost and 
upset him again. You see I don’t know what that par¬ 
ticular sin of yours is. Perhaps you’d better tell me, 
’Dophin.” 

He sat in front of the fire, which blazed gloriously, and 
looked at the Professor with the very imp of mischief 
himself in his eyes. The dogs sat with their tongues 
lolling out one on each side of him and panted. In the 
kitchen Mistress Jones made haste with much food. 

“I believe,” said the Professor, “that the authorities 
are divided on that subject. But I think you ought to 
have stayed to the end of the term, old chap.” 

“Aren’t you glad, really jolly glad, to have me back 
again?” asked Copper Top. 

“Well—I’m afraid I am,” owned the Professor weakly. 

“Very well then!” said Copper Top, and disappeared 



370 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


into the kitchen to the joy of Kathleen and the Sandy 
Puss Family. 

The Professor listened to the pleasant sound of their 
greeting, wondered what was the best explanation to 
give the Cambridge authorities, and tried, manfully but 
ineffectually, to stifle that fountain of irresponsible well¬ 
being that the mere presence of Copper Top caused to 
bubble up within him. 


CHAPTER VII 


That same spring Ishtar came out, and followed the 
usual routine of a high-born damsel. Was presented at 
Court by her mother, attended all the important Social 
Functions, was introduced to many celebrated people, 
and officiated as bridesmaid at the two most notable 
weddings of the Season. It was all very pleasant. She 
loved the dances in big beautiful rooms to the music of 
stringed instruments, the Opera on Gala days, the 
theatre parties, the Polo at Hurlingham, the gay race¬ 
meeting, and the excitement when one of her grand¬ 
father’s horses was running. Above all she loved the 
big receptions where men who made history came and 
went, or the little dinners when they talked over affairs 
of state and party politics. It was exciting to feel that 
she was inside all these great matters of which the papers 
were full, and which the whole world watched anxiously. 

It was none the less exciting because somehow it did 
not feel quite real. It was more as if they were all play¬ 
ing a game. The greatest game in the world, with the 
greatest prizes. But only a game. The counters they 
played with were the lives and the welfare of men. The 
future of the races of the world hung on how well or 
ill these people, who sat there eating and drinking and 
talking, played their game. 

She watched them all with the wide wondering eyes 
of a child. And with always the knowledge behind her 
wonder that she too might take a hand in the game, just 


372 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

as her mother and grandmother did. It fascinated her. 
She became more and more Marion Rosamund Helen, 
daughter of a long line of rulers and statesmen. Daugh¬ 
ter of women who had ruled the strings of government, 
standing behind their men, for many a generation. 

Her interest increased when Don MacClean began to 
talk of standing for Parliament. At Cambridge he was 
a Power. He had begun to feel his feet as a leader. 
The big men of his party were taking notice of him. 
He came up, as often as he could get away, to go with 
Ishtar to the dances, and in fragrant conservatory 
corners on terraces overlooking a London beautiful and 
mysterious under the spell of night, they talked together 
of what a man might do who served his country and 
loved her. And, watching with starry eyes at her 
mother’s receptions, listening at the little dinners for 
the chosen, Marion Rosamund Helen had visions of what 
a woman might do. 

Sometimes, during the week-ends at the Castle, when 
she went to bed in her old nursery, and the star above 
the tallest tree-top peeped in, the queer craving after 
Freedom stole back. Copper Top’s Freedom. It was 
not compatible with the Great Game. That held you in 
a bondage from which there seemed no escape. Yet it 
fascinated her, even as that vision of Freedom fascinated 
her. There was so much to desire in this wonderful 
world, and she wanted it all. The Great Game meant 
Power. Power and prestige, and pleasure too. And 
Fate had made it so easy for her to take a hand in it. 
It had given her all the cards a woman needs. And with 
Don- 

“After all, you know,” she said to her grandmother, 
“there is no one quite like Don!” 

Lady Condor more than agreed, and felt thankfully 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


373 


secure. Her indiscretions had resulted in no calamity. 
Don, she knew, was only waiting until he left Cam¬ 
bridge. Ishtar would, without doubt, marry him, and 
carry on the traditions of her race. All was very well 
and satisfactory. 

And then Ishtar had an attack of German Measles. 
Anything more stupid and annoying in the middle of 
the London Season could not well be imagined. And 
as Lady Condor asked, “Why German ?” She would 
miss the Buckingham Palace private garden-party, and 
the Duchess of Northminster’s ball to meet the Prince, 
and numerous other important fixtures, and, what Ishtar 
herself minded most of all, the Trinity College Dance in 
Cambridge Week. But, as Lady Hawkhurst said to 
Lady Condor, there it was. 

Also the Doctor spoke quite seriously of the necessity 
for rest and country air, and Ishtar, lying restlessly 
awake through long nights in the hot lifeless air with 
the ceaseless cry of London all around her, began to long 
passionately for the cool of green woods and of running 
water. She announced that she would go down to the 
Little House, to Cousin James. She knew she would 
feel well directly she got to the forest. ’Dophin would 
love to have her. 

Lady Hawkhurst agreed. It would really be a very 
suitable place for a convalescence. There was absolutely 
nothing to do there, and nowhere to go to. One would 
have to rest. Also neither the Professor nor Kathleen 
were likely to catch German Measles, and Copper Top 
was safely away at Cambridge. Indeed it seemed a most 
excellent arrangement. 

Ishtar drove to Mentmore in the car. Down the Old 
Kent Road, thick with tramway lines and cars and dust 
and humanity; through Bromley, pretty and smug and 


374 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


respectably over-smart; down the long Sevenoaks Hill 
into Tonbridge, quietly sleeping beside its river; and 
into the fair country beyond, gold with buttercups, white 
with may, and sweet with all spring’s thousand scents. 

At first she felt distinctly cross and irritable. In spite 
of her longing for fresh air and the quiet peace of wood 
and field, yet it really was sickening to miss so much. 
On Friday the Prime Minister was dining at Condor 
House. She loved to hear him talk, and he always talked 
a great deal. There was the Australians versus Gentle¬ 
men third test match at Lords. Don had been coming 
up to take her. There was the tennis at Lady Chan¬ 
try’s to meet Suzanne Lenglen and Moira Leicester’s 
River Party. And above all there was the Trinity Col¬ 
lege Dance. She thought of the great marquee on the 
lawn outside the library. She had been looking for¬ 
ward so to dancing with Copper Top there. Don danced 
well, in the capable substantial way that he did every¬ 
thing. She liked the way he held you. It was so gentle, 
and yet you felt so safe. With half-closed eyes she 
thought of it, thought of all the lovely dances with him 
that she would miss. Two lines of poetry repeated them¬ 
selves over and over again in her mind in time with the 
busy hum of the car: 

“Be a man and fold me, with your arm. 

Be a man and hold me, with a charm.” 

That was how it felt to dance with Don. With Copper 
Top it was different. He danced like the wind, as swift 
and as light, and he moved to some rhythm of his own. 
He hardly held you at all, but if you caught the rhythm 
there was no need, you moved as one with him, as swiftly 
and as lightly. It was wonderful then. He would not 
come to the dances in London. He did not do things 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


375 


to please her as Don did. It hurt her a little, because she 
seemed to have no hold on him. He came and went in 
her life by chance, not by any effort of his own. She 
had been looking forward to that dance because he had 
faithfully promised to be there. And now—oh it was too 
stupid! 

She was still fretting, and feeling on edge even with 
the singing shining spring-world, when she came 
to the Condor woods, thick with wild hyacinths un¬ 
der their canopy of young beech leaves, beyond the grey 
Downs. 

Then, suddenly almost, she regretted nothing any 
more. There was music in the air. Adventure. A sense 
of something wonderful that would be revealed to 
her. Strangely she recaptured the long-ago charm of 
childhood’s days. She laughed softly to herself as they 
drew up at the Castle. It looked forlorn in the sun¬ 
light with all its blinds down. The great gardens seemed 
waiting for their owners, for the laughter and move¬ 
ment of the week-end parties. They held no secret for 
her, no magic in their ordered beauty. But she loved 
the old place, it meant much to her, and it was here al¬ 
ways that the Adventure began. 

In a flash of inspiration she knew what she would do. 
She would take Jane, now living out a peaceful old age 
in the Castle meadows, and ride up to the Little House, 
just as she used to do when she was a child. She would 
try and live again in that World of Fairy Tales come 
True. Rose could come up with the luggage afterwards. 
She would go quite alone. 

So she mounted the little white pony and rode down 
the lime avenue and up the white road and through the 
gateway beside the stile into the forest pathway. And 
as she rode things happened. All that she had been 


376 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


thinking about as she drove down faded away curiously 
as into some dim past. Even the Great Game. Even 
Don. She regretted nothing. Something wonderful 
was going to happen. In the clearing, where the little 
bushes and baby rabbits grew, and dragon-flies shone 
above the streams, she put her cheek down against the 
rough silk of Jane’s mane and whispered: 

“We are out on an adventure, Jane. Something won¬ 
derful is going to happen in a minute. ,, 

And she did not feel in the least foolish, though she 
was grown up and capable of taking a hand in the 
Greatest Game in the world. 

Among the trees it was very still. There was only the 
stir of Jane’s patient busy little feet among the last year’s 
leaves. The soft rustle made the silence more full of 
mystery. 

On they went and up. The shadow of leaves played 
softly on them, the magic sense of adventure grew. It 
was strange, because before it had always belonged to 
times when she had been on her way to meet Copper 
Top. And Copper Top was far away at Cambridge. 
But—but was he? Suddenly she understood. And the 
wood was not still. It was full of whispering laughter. 
She laughed with it, the gay laughter of a child, and Jane 
whinnied softly. 

The next moment Copper Top’s arms were round 
them both, and Jane was muzzling her velvet nose with 
its funny long hairs against his breast. 

“Copper Top! Oh, Copper Top, I thought you were 
at Cambridge!” The whole world blazed and danced 
together. She regretted nothing any more. 

“I was tired of Cambridge,” he answered, and laughed 
irrepressibly. “But of course it had to happen if you 
were coming. Star, isn’t it wonderful? It is full spring. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 377 

It is the Perfect Hour. And we have it all to ourselves! 
Oh Star-” 

They laughed together for sheer joy, and their laugh¬ 
ter rippled with the sunlight and was part of the music 
of the woods. She slipped from Jane’s back into his 
arms, and they walked up the path. She was not tired 
now. It seemed absurd that she should ever have been 
tired. Something radiant and vital ran in her veins. She 
slipped into the unison with the sun and the wind. Into 
the gay and careless happiness of winged things. She 
stood on the edge of Adventure. At any moment she 
might take the plunge into the world where everything 
was Free. And she was not in the least afraid. Had 
she really reached out at last into Copper Top’s world? 
Or had he come down to hers. He was nearer to her 
than he had ever been before. 

“Are you glad I have come?” she asked. It was 
an absurd question, but she longed to hear him say that 
he wanted her. If only he were a little, just a little, like 
other men- 

Copper Top looked at her. “Can’t you feel it?” he 
asked. And then for one whole minute the world went 
round. She came out of some great plunge, breathless, 
and asked no more questions. She did not want to 
know any more for a little while. It was enough. She 
asked about ’Dophin and Kathleen and all the creatures. 
The birds came flying to greet them. Running Water 
was at the gate, and King Edward, hoary with years but 
as full of curiosity as ever, poked a soft nose under every 
arm. The dogs gave that welcome to which no human 
being can attain, though the Professor came very near 
to it. The very fragrance of the sweet-briar hedge 
greeted her. Oh, it was good to be back! 

They found lunch waiting for them in the cool dining- 




37 $ 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


room, its wide windows open to the massed colour and 
scent of the spring garden. The swallows flashed in and 
out and carried away food for their clamouring off¬ 
spring under the eaves above. A bundle of Sandy Puss 
kittens, pleasantly full of warm milk, lay sleeping in a 
pool of sunlight. The Professor sat, with the boy and 
girl one on each side of him, and beamed. Indeed he 
was conscious of an exhilaration beyond any he had 
ever felt before, even with Copper Top. All sorts of 
ideas were passing through his mind, pleasantly exciting 
ideas, although vague as yet among the gay talk and 
laughter. But when lunch was over and the young people 
wandered into the garden, he stood in the window, 
smoking his pipe and watching them, and the ideas be¬ 
gan to sort themselves out. 

What a fool he had been to worry himself because 
Copper Top had come down before the end of term. 
Things did not just happen for no reason at all. Days 
in the forest with Ishtar—they were worth all the book¬ 
learning in the world. Of course they were. And he 
continued to watch the two fair heads bent closely above 
the flowers with the mingled feelings of glee and guilt, 
like a great schoolboy up to mischief. 

The Hawkhursts would never have sent her had they 
known. Nothing should induce him to let them know if 
he could help it. He wondered if Ishtar would. Though 
even Marion would be vexed. The friendship had, in a 
way, always been against what she called her better 
judgment. He knew that. And yet she was the wisest 
woman he knew. It only showed what fools people 
were! Poor dear Connie! The Professor chuckled 
wickedly to himself. Well, those sort of people could 
not always have it their own way. There was some 
reason why these two had been thrown together almost 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 379 

from their babyhood. Delightful thoughts began to shape 
themselves in the Professor’s mind. 

He dropped into the deep window seat. The sun was 
very hot. The scent of lilac and sweet-briar mingled 
gloriously. Copper Top moved out of the garden down 
the path into the forest, and Ishtar followed him. She 
sang as she went. A song that had no words, and needed 
none. The gracious lines of their easily moving bodies 
disappeared among the tall tree trunks, and the Professor 
dreamed on. 

Copper Top’s children. Copper Top’s and Ishtar’s. 
How amazingly wonderful they would be! What glori¬ 
ous creatures of fire and dew. Surely Dame Nature 
was taking a hand in this. If only People did not inter¬ 
fere. Copper Top’s and Ishtar’s children. What radiant 
embodiments of Life. Born into Copper Top’s world 
of disinterested adoration. Cared for and blessed by all 
living things. At one with the rhythm of all that we 
call Nature. The wonder and beauty of that he visualised 
over-ran the Professor’s power of thought. 

They were wonderful days that followed. The Pro¬ 
fessor stood on one side, and moved with reverence, 
for there was holy ground about him. 

For now, at last, Ishtar was there all the time. Cop¬ 
per Top would call to her at dawn, and she would come 
to her window all flushed with sleep like some rose- 
washed flower, her eyes still full of dreams among her 
tumbled hair. Something within her, just awakening 
with all awakening things, reached down to him, ex¬ 
quisite, fragrant, tangible. 

Presently she would come out in her straight little 
frock of silk, that was like the sheath of a flower, and 
they would go into the fragrant fields where the cattle 
still slept under the trees in the lush grass. Sometimes 


380 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


she bathed her feet in the dew. Little white feet that 
Copper Top loved. They were too beautiful to hide, he 
said. 

They were wonderful days. Filled with magic moments 
almost unbearably sweet, with intimate rapturous under¬ 
standing of every little flower growing perfectly in its 
own appointed place, of every wandering cloud and 
stream fulfilling its own purpose. They climbed to the 
topmost peak of the naked Uplands to greet the sun at 
his rising. They dreamed on the sleeping downs among 
God’s little gardens of thyme and potentilla, or swayed 
among the scented breezes. They went down to the 
sea and swam out in the track of the sun with the white 
gulls circling and calling above them. They floated on 
the wide paces of water while the birds rocked on the 
waves with head and tail erect, for all the world exactly 
like the birds out of Ishtar’s Noah’s Ark had rocked on 
her bath long ago. They dawdled blissfully in flowered 
fields, and wandered through tracks and by-ways un¬ 
known to men, and little virgin woods, mysteriously 
still. And there were moon-washed nights of a thousand 
stars, when surely all Heaven sang, they were so bright, 
so strangely fair. 

And dearest, most wonderful of all, the Creatures 
were no longer afraid of her. They admitted her into 
their small glad lives. All that she had dreamed of, and 
longed for, as a child, had come true. She sank deeper 
and deeper into Copper Top’s world. Her own world 
grew dim. 

She felt strange beautiful things were stirring all 
around her. Sometimes the whole singing, shining 
world became uncannily still. If Copper Top had not been 
there she would have been afraid. When that curious 
stillness came in the full blaze of the noonday sun she 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


38i 


was afraid. And it was then that Copper Top was most 
divinely tender; then that he drew her most surely into 
that oneness with him that was becoming closer and 
closer. But mostly she was conscious of a great and 
ever growing joy, that sang all the time. It was so 
wonderful that it took her breath away sometimes, and 
when they came back, like homing pigeons, to the Little 
House, she liked to sit a little with ’Dophin and hold 
his hand as the child Ishtar used to do. The Professor 
understood. The radiant joy that Copper Top brought 
into life, took his breath away too occasionally. Not 
that the Professor did not now believe that it was the 
birthright of all created things, but it was so long since 
man had sold his birthright for the mess of pottage that 
he called Civilisation that he had lost all true conception 
of joy. He recaptured a faint shadow of it when he 
loved and mated. But he spoilt and maimed and dis¬ 
figured that as he spoilt and maimed and disfigured every¬ 
thing else he laid his bloodstained hands upon. For the 
Professor did not always forget his grievances against 
Man with a big M even in these halcyon days. 

They slipped by, and neither Copper Top nor Ishtar 
counted them. The Perfect Hour hung fixed and flaw¬ 
less. Only the Professor became anxious. Would Cop¬ 
per Top let Ishtar slip away as he let all other things 
that men valued? Had he no use for love as men under¬ 
stood it, as he had no use for fame or power or wealth ? 
His attitude towards Ishtar was, so far as the Professor 
could tell, that attitude of disinterested adoration with 
which he regarded the whole Universe. Would the lust 
of possession fail to touch him even here? 

The Professor watched this strange courtship, if 
courtship it was, and saw visions and dreamed dreams. 
He remembered Pendlebury’s words, “We have got 


382 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

hold of something wonderful, and we can’t get anything 
out of it.” 

Pendlebury had not thought of this. The possible 
nucleus of a race that would work in unison with all 
creatures. Why should not the great forces of Nature 
which Copper Top undoubtedly held communion with, 
which even the Professor himself, in his company, had 
dimly sensed, why should They not use this chance to 
bring back Humanity from its miry by-ways in the 
wilderness, back to its true heritage of happiness, back 
into touch with reality. Was Copper Top only just a 
falling star, lost for a while out of his own place in 
heaven, or was some purpose at the back of his com¬ 
ing? 

A mad old man! That’s what People would call him. 
Probably did call him. He was profoundly indifferent. 

And then, measuring the huge and hideous forces of 
greed and lust and cruelty that Man has built and built 
through the ages to culminate in the great War, that 
War the very thought of which never failed to make 
the Professor see red with impotent rage, the fairy 
vision faded. What chance had things like Copper Top? 
And yet, after all, how strong he was against them. 
Always he had been afraid for Copper Top in the meshes 
of the great Machine, grinding mercilessly on its 
hideous way, and always it had failed to catch him. 
Always Copper Top had laughed and kept his own care¬ 
less freedom. No touch of that horrible harrow had 
ever touched him. 

But if he married—had children? How could he 
escape? It wasn’t possible. Why had he been so 
foolish as to hope for it? Marriage? Marriage was 
one of the heaviest of all the chains men and women had 
forged for themselves so busily through the ages. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 383 

“What are you worrying about, ’Dophin?” asked 
Copper Top. 

He leant, beautiful, serene, alert, against the trunk of 
the big oak, and smiled down at the Professor. 

“Worrying?” repeated the Professor. “Pm not 
worrying!” 

Copper Top laid his cool deft fingers on the Professor's 
and disentangled them from his beard. 

The Professor snorted. Then he laughed. 

“One has to worry if one is foolish enough to pick 
up a thing like you off a pathway.” 

“What is the matter now?” asked Copper Top, and 
he tidied the Professor’s beard. 

The Professor took a bold plunge into the centre of 
things. 

“I was thinking about your getting married,” he 
said. 

“I will marry Ishtar if she will marry me,” answered 
Copper Top. “Is that what you mean?” 

Finding himself so decidedly in the centre the Pro¬ 
fessor was so startled that he had, for the moment, 
nothing to say. 

“I don’t like what you call marriage,” Copper Top 
continued calmly. “It’s like everything else beautiful, 
when People get hold of it they spoil it. But I suppose 
if Ishtar is my wife we must get married.” 

“Don’t be silly, old chap. She wouldn’t be your wife 
if you weren’t married.” 

“You mean People wouldn’t think she was,” said 
Copper Top, and thought for a moment. “I wish you 
had picked Ishtar up in the pathway too.” 

“So do I!” ejaculated the Professor. “With all my 
heart.” 


384 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Though what would have happened to your beard 
with two of us-” said Copper Top, and giggled. 

“As it is, we shall have to cope with all the Condors 
and Hawkhursts there ever have been or ever will be,” 
groaned the Professor. 

“Let’s deal with them as they come,” suggested Copper 
Top cheerfully. 

“It won’t be an easy matter you know, old chap. 
They expect Ishtar to make a big match. They will 
bring every bit of influence they have to prevent her 
marrying you.” 

“But they have no right to interfere,” said Copper 
Top, and became suddenly serious. “To create a dwell¬ 
ing-place for the Life—about that, how can anyone 
decide for her? To that creation must go body, soul, 
and spirit, or it is sacrilege. I do not understand how 
anyone can dare to interfere. Only she can know-” 

The words were halting, imperfect, but the Professor 
looking into the boy’s clear eyes understood what he was 
trying to convey. 

“To create you know, that is the one thing that really 
matters. One dare not create except faithfully. If the 
work is done amiss—that matters. Perhaps that is what 
is wrong with you all. I have been thinking about it. 
You create on a lower plane than anything else—for 
lower reasons-” 

The thought struck the Professor like a flash of 
lightning. Physical passion—the creative force working 
through matter—a thing of the spirit then—of course— 
misused—prostituted. Was not the only wonder that 
the result was not even worse-? 

“I can’t explain very well,” Copper Top went on slowly. 
“I can only use your words, and I never know what you 
really mean by them.” 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


385 


He paused and the Professor waited on a curious tip¬ 
toe of expectation. The boy’s face was so strangely 
still. His voice fell to a murmur of sweet sound 

“Our words have Power,” he said. “They open the 

doorways. They too create-” 

And once more the Professor felt that the boy was 
linked up in some unusual way with his environment. 
With the hot sunlight in which he stood, with the little 
scented breeze that came wandering up from the garden, 
with all the murmuring song of busy happy life with 
which the spring afternoon was sweetly full. 

Then Ishtar came, with the sun in the clustering soft¬ 
ness of her hair, with dreams in her eyes, and royal gifts 
in her slender hands. They went away together and 
the Professor sat on alone and prayed. To what God 
he did not know, only that he had to pray. 

If only he had picked Ishtar up too. Why had she 
come of a race that had tradition and prejudice in its 
very fibre. Links had been forged for her in the past, 
links that only one in a thousand has the courage to 
break when the right time comes. Had she the courage ? 
Little white Ishtar, with her starry eyes under those 
pathetic eyebrows, who had cried on his shoulder long 
ago, “I love them both so much.” 

For there was Don. A good fellow who loved her 
too. He would fight for her, if the Professor knew 
anything of men. No one else had any right to interfere. 
The boy was right. Absolutely right. Ishtar should 
settle it with her own soul. Only that knew. But 
everyone would interfere—everyone. Even Arthur 
Fothersley. And Don—Don would fight. “So would I,” 
thought the Professor, “in his shoes.” 

But Copper Top would not fight, that was quite clear. 
Very well then, he would fight for him—for him and 



386 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


those wonderful children—grandchildren- The Pro¬ 

fessor pulled himself up. But he would fight. 

He went in and hunted up his bank book; his invest¬ 
ments had prospered, he knew. His study of foreign 
politics had been useful. Those Chinese Bonds now. 
At any rate Copper Top would be able to give Ishtar all 
that even a woman of her rank needed. A strong and 
necessary weapon that to fight with. But there was his 
birth—they would look on it as an unsurmountable 
obstacle—or pretend to. People were such Fools. Cop¬ 
per Top was born of the spirit. He would bring to his 
mating birthright beyond the knowledge of man. If 
only Ishtar had the courage- 

The next morning the mists lay thick and white upon 
the Downs at dawn. 

“Let us go up. It will be most good,” said Copper 
Top when Ishtar came to her window at his call. 

In the forest it was all a silver world. Pale stars were 
still glimmering through the trees, gold in a dull silver 
sky. Only the far away Downs were shrouded in mist, 
snow-white, ineffable. 

They ran towards them swiftly through the creeping 
dawn. Across dew-drenched fields, up lanes sweet with 
pungent-scented herbs, and little hidden tracks unknown 
to men. They whispered as they went, laughed softly, 
lest they should waken in fear the sleeping things. They 
passed over the Uplands, where dewy cobwebs hung 
like silver veils over the young fern and heather, and 
plunged down, and down again, into the valley, past 
sleeping homesteads, and fields of springing wheat, and 
herds of sweet smelling cattle, until they came to the 
little wooded ravines at the foot of the Downs. 

Here it was very dark. By the track wan primrose 
ghosts shone dimly, above, the elder flowers glimmered. 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


387 


Yellow eyes gleamed, and a white owl joined them, 
flying on a level with Copper Top’s head. If he had not 
been there Ishtar would have been terrified. The ravine 
was full of whispers—grey shapes that moved- 

And then they were out again into the silver world, 
and began to climb up and up once more, with the springy 
down turf under their feet. Soon they moved in faint 
wreaths of mist, and before it wholly shrouded them 
Copper Top stopped and said, “Look back.” 

The world below seemed fashioned in silver and gold, 
or rather of both, most cunningly mingled. The stars 
had gone, the whole wide sky was clear, like some great 
mirror waiting to reflect, save for one thin blue spire of 
smoke that marked the Little House. 

Copper Top smiled. “God bless ’Dophin,” he said. 

His fingers closed round hers, and they passed into 
the mist. It was impossible to see more than a yard 
ahead. They moved mysteriously, expectant. Now they 
passed through the scent of gorse, now under the drift¬ 
ing white of a may tree. Bushes appeared and disap¬ 
peared, crouching, alert, about to spring, amazingly 
alive. 

And then, quite suddenly, they were out in the sun¬ 
light, great floods of sunlight, under a blue sky, the 
bluest sky that Ishtar had ever seen. All round them 
the rolling ridges of the Downs glowed like great fairy 
opals, below, the mists surged, dazzlingly white, white 
as snow, and broke against the slopes like spray. The 
air was keen from the sea, and indescribably sweet with 
the scent of dew-drenched turf and thyme. 

A sob caught Ishtar by the throat; she held out her 
arms. “It is like dawn in another world, above the 
clouds,” she whispered. 

A curious consciousness awoke in her. She felt that 



388 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


she was really awake in the world for the first time. 
She had never really seen light or colour before. Every¬ 
thing was alive in a way she had never realised. 

Her blood was pouring through her veins like fire—no 
—not fire—sunshine. Copper Top—she could feel it run¬ 
ning through his veins too—it was running through 
everything—like some great river—to some great 
rhythm- 

A skylark was singing up in the blue—sheep were 
cropping upon the distant slope—there were little butter¬ 
flies— 

Ah, it was the same dear world, more alive! 

Copper Top stood erect, his face to the east, alight 
with exultation it outshone the sun. He was one clear 
note of praise, and with him went the whole song of 
the glad world. 

A little strange keen wind came. The sun was very 
hot. The mists were drifting clouds of rose and gold 
far down the radiant slopes. 

And above them- Ishtar held out her hands and 

cried aloud. “Look! Oh, Copper Top! Look!” 

Part of the light and yet distinct from it, unimaginably 
golden, great shapes moved, moved across the sky, 
across the face of the Downs, immense, serene. With 
them came an extraordinary wave of vital well-being, a 
wind of the spirit. From the golden wonder deep fontal 
eyes looked out and blessed. 

And still the skylark sang, still on the slopes the crop¬ 
ping sheep shone white. 

“Copper Top-” 

He looked down at her and smiled. 

“What were they?” she whispered. 

“You saw them?” His voice was triumphant. “You 
saw. At last. Oh, Star!” 






THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


389 


“What were they, Copper Top?” 

‘Some of the Sun Weavers I think. There are a 
great many different sorts, you know.” 

“And you see them all the time? Oh, Copper Top!” 

“In places like this, nearly always. Those are very 
great beings though. There are many lesser ones. But 
it is very good that you saw them. I was beginning to 
think you never would. Now you know.” 

“But it is another world,” she said. “Another world 
with different beings in it.” 

“It is all the same world; only you are seeing a little 
more of it, that’s all,” answered Copper Top. “Most 
people see so very little. If they call a thing Nature, 
they seem to think that’s the end of it. It must be dull.” 

“But you never told me! You just left me guessing 
all the time.” 

“You cannot tell,” said Copper Top. “It is no good. 
You will find you cannot tell either.” 

Ishtar moved towards a grey boulder and sat down. 
She looked out over the great spaces. The sun had folded 
the mists all away. The whole world lay clear and clean 
in the light and heat. The world she knew. And she 
had seen gold Presences upon its rainbow hills. It sur¬ 
passed all the legends of Fairyland. This world—this 
dear world that she loved. In it you could companion 
those who wove the Sunlight and the Clouds and the 
Stars—and all the Flowers and the good brown Earth. 
You could walk with those who fashioned Lily Leaves 
and the slender spring Wheat. 

She looked round her. Her eyes sparkled out of her 
eager face. Her breath came and went swiftly. 

Copper Top laughed and the air danced. “Don’t 
try,” he said. “It was not with those dear grey eyes 
of yours you saw.” 


390 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


She looked up, and the colour crept hot and sweet into 
her face until it was radiant as a rose-bright cloud that 
draws to the sun. For in Copper Top’s eyes she saw 
adoration, pure and unadulterated. 

“Beloved,” he said. And again, “Beloved.” 

And Ishtar rose up and went to him. Flushed and won¬ 
derful and as mysterious as the dawn, she went to him. 

Copper Top took her into his arms with a shout of 
triumph, that rang through space until the wide Heavens 
chimed, and the Earth rocked in answer. 

All her loveliness melted into his embrace. It seemed 
to her that they flashed together into one perfect flame. 

“I love you,” she said. And again, “Oh, I love you!” 
It was as if she were astonished, very sweet. 

And with those words of magic power went the whole 
song of the Universe, gathered in ecstasy, from singing 
hill to singing sea, from singing flower to singing star. 

“Beloved,” he said again. “Wonderful Beloved. The 
Perfect Hour has struck, and to us is the Kingdom, the 
Power and the Glory.” 


Down at the Little House the Professor girt his loins 
to guard the Gate. By the first post came letters for 
Ishtar. One addressed in Lady Hawkhurst’s graceful 
writing, every letter of which spoke to the Professor of 
convention, propriety, the correct attitude, of all those 
things he, at this moment, hated most. He felt that he 
would almost be justified in burning it! There was an¬ 
other from Don. The Professor groaned. By no 
stretch of morality would he be justified in burning that. 

The golden day went on, and he wandered round the 
place, and up and down his study, groaning and grunting 
and thinking revolutionary thoughts. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


39i 


Even if they allowed the engagement- His mind 

travelled back across the years to his own visit to 
Paradise. Margot’s mother. What an awful woman. 
The relations she had insisted on producing—the Family 
friends—the visits she had insisted upon—the Meals! 
Good Lord! The Meals! Afternoon At Homes— 
Dinners—with music afterwards. Pianoforte pieces! 
They had all meant to be kind—of course—worthy 
people. But the hours they had eaten up. Hours torn 
out of Paradise. And the week before the wedding day. 
The Professor shuddered among his flowers. The wed¬ 
ding day. In London. London of all places! There 
had been a fog. Even the smell of the church came back 
to him. A clammy smell—mixed with a heavy scent of 
flowers—a sea of bald heads and feathered hats and 
bonnets . . . Margot’s mother kissing him in the vestry 
—a wet kiss. . . . All through it Margot’s bravely smil¬ 
ing, tired little face. The smell of wedding cake—from 
Buzzard’s- 

And then Margot asleep against his shoulder in a 
‘‘reserved first-class compartment.” Blue cloth cushions 
with a peculiar smell. The turmoil and bustle of the 
railway station, and the Station Hotel where they broke 
their journey. The bedroom—windows and bed both 
draped in an evil maroon coloured stuff. A carpet 
covered with sickly yellow-brown pools—a flare of gas 
in a thick globe. The odour of dead air—the window 
cord—the right hand one—was broken. The station 
atmosphere, engine smoke, damp soot—had poured in. 
“Quite comfortable, for one night. Must break your 
journey.” He could hear his mother-in-law’s fat com¬ 
fortable voice across the long years. 

How had Margot ever come! Margot—fair clustered 
hair—a flushed tired face—like a lost flower in that great 




39 2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


stuffy bed under the maroon festoons- A grey white 

counterpane—there was an eiderdown that one didn’t 

care to touch lying in a heap on the floor- 

And they had been young— young —and the world had 
been full of hallowed starlit places, of moon-white fields, 
of wind-swept skies and the scent of great seas. He 

had not known then—but now- 

And what could he do? 

The wildest ideas crossed the Professor’s mind. 

If he could only get them married here—now—to-day. 
Special licenses—Registry Office—the Archdeacon—all 
flitted through his brain like a waking dream. 

He had tramped to and fro, and up and down, until 
at this moment in his nightmare he had reached the 
Beech Grove. Any mad scheme seemed possible under 
that whispering canopy of translucent green. Mad? 
Rather beautiful understanding of things as they should 
be. In that lonely and enchanted spot he dared to believe 
that all should be well. Again he prayed. ... He did 
not know to Whom, but he had to pray. 

Copper Top and Ishtar found him still there when they 
wandered home in the warm dusk. They came with 
happy feet, with song and laughter, two mating things, 
young and very glad, and swept him into the radiant 
centre of their well-being. It was impossible with them, 
for the moment at any rate, to be pessimistic. The Pro¬ 
fessor let himself go, let himself revel in Copper Top’s 
wild spirits, shared in the Perfect Hour for all he was 
worth, and shook his beard defiantly at the Future. But 
he did not give Ishtar her letters. He let them lie where 
he had thrown them in the morning. The outside world 
could wait for this one day—this day of magic—of faery. 
He was swept with the children on a wave of exultation 
from some unknown sea, on into a moon-white night— 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


393 


through a world of silver dreams- Kathleen crooned 

softly in the kitchen, her song was like deep water flowing 
underground. The whole earth was bewitched, and the 
Professor with it. 

Ishtar found her letters the next morning. Her heart 
sank with a horrible sick feeling when she saw them. 

Don- She was going to hurt him. Hurt him pretty 

badly. Life was dreadfully difficult. Things wouldn’t 
let one be really happy. She slipped his letter into her 
pocket unread, for she knew just how bad it would make 
her feel. And she would have to write and tell him. 
Why couldn’t she run away from it all—with Copper Top 
—he would say “Why not ?” 

She read her mother’s letter at breakfast under the 
oak tree, and asked, “What day of the week is it?” and 
no one knew. 

“But how can we find out!” she exclaimed, and 
laughed. It was too ridiculous. 

“Does it matter?” asked Copper Top. 

Ishtar looked at her letter. “It is from Mother,” she 
said, “and it is not dated. They are coming down to 
the Castle on Saturday, she says, for the week-end.” 

“The paper!” exclaimed the Professor, and remem¬ 
bered that he had not looked at it for a least three days. 

Copper Top slipped in through the study window and 
brought out a little pile of newspapers. He handed them 
to Ishtar. 

“Nobody has read them,” she said, and looked guilty. 
“Copper Top, we must read them. At least, I don’t 
matter so much, but everyone will be horrified if you 
don’t know what is going on.” 

“I will see what is going on,” said Copper Top, and 
spread out one of the papers and read. “Near East 
Crisis. Is War Inevitable?” “Near West. Looters 




394 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


and Bridge-wreckers. More Murders,” “Gruesome 
Thibet. Feeding the dead to Vultures.” “Man and 
Wife with Throats Cut.” 

“Oh, Copper Top! you are picking out the worst!” 

“No,” protested Copper Top. “Those are all the head¬ 
ings in one top line.” 

He rolled the paper into a ball and threw it to Terrier 
Puppy, who tore it into small pieces with diligence. 

“But the date?” asked the Professor. 

The outside world was encroaching horribly. At any 
moment it might be upon them—rush in and over¬ 
whelm— 

Ishtar had opened another paper. She looked up in 
dismay. 

"It is Saturday,” she said. “Saturday, June the 
First, June! And Saturday. They will be here to-day!” 

She picked up her mother’s letter and read it again. 

“I am to join them, and we will all go back to London 
together on Monday. Oh, Copper Top!” 

“Do you want to go?” he asked. 

“No. Oh, no!” She looked at him with eyes so sweet 
and yet with so much fear in them that the Professor 
turned away. He felt that he had surprised something 
sacred unawares. He moved softly across the grass; 
the dogs leaped about him as he went. Only the martins 
still circled round on their long, lovely wings, and the 
pigeon, cooing on Copper Top’s shoulder sleepily replete 
with much breakfast, did not stir. 

Copper Top looked into those sweet eyes, and spoke 
softly. “You are like the little streams that sing all 
night to the moon,” he said. “You are like the little 
waves that sing all day to the shore. Just so sweet.” 

She held out both her hands to him across the table. 
He took them in his, turned them palms upwards, and 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


395 


dropped a butterfly kiss first into one, then into the other. 
She lifted up her face, softly aglow, and he touched with 
his lips, just as lightly, the flower-cup of her mouth. 

“What is it, Beloved?” he asked. 

“My dear,” she answered. “My dear.” And the 
old-fashioned word took on its old sweet meaning as she 
spoke it. “Hold me, keep me, don’t let me go. What¬ 
ever happens, don’t let me go.” 

Then he answered a strange thing, and it seemed to 
her a hard one. “I cannot hold you. I cannot keep 
you. You must come of yourself and stay of yourself. 
There is no other way.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


Lady Condor sat under the beech trees on the Castle 
lawn surrounded by West Highlanders and the weekly 
papers. She always kept the latter for her week-end in 
the country. It was the only way during the season, she 
said, to keep yourself properly au fait with the news of 
the world. 

Presently Mr. Fothersley came trotting across the grass 
to pay his Saturday call. She was immersed in the 
Spectator. 

“Have you read this article, ‘What to do with our 
boys?’ ” she exclaimed when he announced his presence. 
“The title is of course all wrong, for it seems there is 
nothing to do with them. And you know it was only a 
few years ago that everyone was told that there would 
not be enough boys, and I do feel sorry for all the poor 
things who started having them again from patriotic 
motives, you know, when they had begun to leave off 
for good. Dear Mimi told me only the other day that if 
she had known what the income-tax was going to be 
she never would have been patriotic—twins, you remem¬ 
ber, and one was a girl—and I do hope she won’t see 
this article, because it will upset her very much.” 

Mr. Fothersley cleared his throat delicately and changed 
the subject. He continued to deprecate the present-day 
habit of alluding to certain things before members of the 
opposite sex, and he made a point of never encouraging 
it, even in Lady Condor. 


396 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 397 

“And who does your party consist of this week-end ?” 
he asked. 

“Oh, just ourselves,” answered Lady Condor. “Connie 
and Hawkhurst, of course. He is out in the car looking 
up one or two useful people. The chance of an Election 
seems remote again, but one never knows, does one? 
And I do dislike being cordial to people just before one 
seems imminent, if you haven’t been before, you know. 
Dear Richard is shaping very well, they tell me, and 
getting on with his speaking at the Union. He came up 
last week on purpose to meet Northallerton, and really 
you know the boy is very like his grandfather in manner. 
Northallerton remarked on it, and seemed pleased.” 

“I take a very serious view of the situation,” announced 
Mr. Fothersley. “Very. I had hoped great things when 
Northallerton definitely assumed the Leadership of our 
Party. A man of action, I thought-” 

“Such a pity he married that terrible-” began Lady 

Condor, but Mr. Fothersley was not to be denied. 

“But he does nothing,” he continued. “Simply 
nothing. And things are going from bad to worse— 
from bad to worse,” Mr. Fothersley repeated emphatic¬ 
ally. “And our own class are turning against us. I 
am horrified, absolutely horrified, by James Godolphin’s 
speech the other night at the Portfolio Club. I believe 
that little man, Pendlebury, asks him on purpose. He 
has always encouraged James. It was reported even in 
respectable newspapers, too. There is no single thing 
that should be sacred to the heart of every Englishman 
that he does not vituperate. To read that speech you 
would think there should be no Poor. And have we not 
the authority of Holy Writ that the Poor-” 

“And if we were all rich who would get into the 
Kingdom of Heaven? though I always believe that 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


39S 

everyone will, but it is all very puzzling, is it not, and 
nobody pays any attention to James really,” ended Lady 
Condor soothingly. “He makes them laugh, that’s all. 
I laughed myself—though I knew I ought not to—but 
one cannot take James seriously—of course not. And 
have you seen anything of Ishtar this week?” 

“As a matter of fact,” Mr. Fothersley began, and 
stopped. He looked a little confused. “You see Marion, 
I have never had German measles, only the ordinary kind, 
and I felt it would be unwise to run any risks.” 

“Ah,” said Lady Condor. “I had not thought of 
that. One does catch things even at our age. I even heard 
of someone of eighty the other day who died of cutting 
a wisdom tooth. But the child is out of quarantine 
now, and I have been expecting her all the afternoon. 
We are taking her back to town on Monday. It’s been so 
vexing that she has missed so much of her first Season.” 

“She has been much admired I am sure,” said Mr. 
Fothersley. 

“Not a debutante to compare with her,” said Lady 
Condor, and beamed. “She has brains too, the child. 
I think she has a great future before her. Northallerton 
and Crowley and Desmond all raving about her.” 

“Desmond!” ejaculated Mr. Fothersley with horror. 

“Well, you know what I mean. For him to like to 
talk to a girl ... it is a great compliment, even though 

he is-” the eloquent wave of her hands described 

exactly what he was. “Of course she will marry Don. 
He is only waiting till he leaves Cambridge, but it is 
quite understood-” 

“A most suitable match,” agreed Mr. Fothersley. “And 
Ishtar will make a lovely mistress of Storne. Most suit¬ 
able.” 

“He is taking up a political career,” Lady Condor 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


399 


went on with complete satisfaction. “Though it is not 
what it was—no—and I am doubtful if he will really be 
a success in it. He is rather too uncompromising, you 

know. To be a success- Who is Cartwright bringing 

out to me? I said ‘not at home’—and where are my 
glasses?—thank you, dear Arthur.” She settled them on 
her nose and exclaimed, “Why, it is James Godolphin! 
And what has he done with the child? Perhaps she has 
gone to take her things off. I am afraid he has some¬ 
thing aggressive to tell us. He is in that mood. I know 

his walk. I do hope- Where is Ishtar, James ?” she 

called. 

“Out riding,” the Professor called back. 

He advanced with his beard at a truculent angle until 
he was within speaking distance. Then he said, “With 
Copper Top.” 

“Copper Top!” exclaimed Lady Condor, and then 
more faintly, “Copper Top! But he is at Cambridge.” 

“At Cambridge,” echoed Mr. Fothersley in a whisper. 

“Not at all,” said the Professor. “He is at home. 
May I sit, Marion ? It is a very hot day.” 

He took off his hat, mopped his forehead, got a firm 
grip on his beard with his left hand, and looked at Lady 
Condor with a stiff smile. 

“Copper Top and Ishtar are engaged,” he said mildly. 

“Good God!” exclaimed Mr. Fothersley. He disliked 
this use of the name of the Almighty, but there are 
moments- 

“Shut up, Arthur,” said the Professor fiercely, and 

waved an angry hand at him. “Marion-” He 

stopped, at a loss for his next words, for it was a dis¬ 
tinctly alarming thing to have stricken Lady Condor 
dumb. Besides, her face was strangely puckered— 
quivering. 




400 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“It is all my fault,” she said, after a moment of pain- 
ful silence. Her pince-nez had fallen off into her lap. 
She looked at the Professor with reproachful eyes. 

“Nonsense, Marion!” He picked up the glasses and 
put them back on to her nose. It was a moment of 
agitation. “It has nothing to do with you. It is Fate. 
Those two children are made for each other.” 

“Pchta!” said Mr. Fothersley, or something like it, 
and then, feeling that he had been a little rude, turned it 
into a cough. 

“I came to see Hawkhurst, first,” the Professor went 
on, ignoring the interruption, “to explain what he may 
not know, that Copper Top is, from a monetary point 
of view, in a position to ask Ishtar to marry him.” 

Lady Condor waved two distracted hands, scattering 
various belongings on to the grass. “James, even you 
must understand what this is to me. What it will be 
to us all.” 

“I’ll be hanged if I do, in the sense you mean,” replied 
the Professor. But he did. Was he not one of them? 
“I suppose it’s because you don’t know whether he had 
a father who drank or a mother who-” 

“James,” interposed Mr. Fothersley again. “I beg 
of you-” 

“I beg your pardon, Marion,” said the Professor, for 
this was not at all how he had meant to set to work. 
That fool Arthur, with his ejaculations, had upset him. 
“Look here, my dear, I did think—well—that at any rate 
you would not be against us. You know the boy is clean 
and straight and fine as gold. He’s got all the money 
any reasonable woman who cares for him can want-” 

“It isn’t that, James.” 

“Then I suppose it is because I picked him up off the 
forest pathway. But isn’t he physically as perfect a 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


401 


thing as you’ve ever seen? Isn’t he clean and beautiful 
of mind beyond the ordinary? Isn’t that testimony that 
he comes of earth’s first blood somehow? What more 
do you want ?” 

“A name, James!” said Mr. Fothersley, and jumped 
an agile three feet as the Professor turned on him. 

“If you say another word, Arthur, upon my word I’ll 
wring your neck,” he said savagely. “Marion, if you 
could see those two young things. The beauty—the 
wonder of it. The joy! Will you come back with me, 
and see them, before they come down here, and you all 
do your best to smash it? Will you just come and talk 
to them?” 

Lady Condor laid a kind hand, that shook a little, on 
his arm. 

“Dear James, I must not run into temptation. All 
that is sensible in me tells me that this thing is out of 
the question. It is against all our traditions, against all 
Ishtar’s traditions—it would never do. I must do what 
is the right thing as I see it. Let us go and tell Condor 
and see what can be done. I think he is looking at the 
pigs. Let us find him quickly.” She got up, voluminous¬ 
ly helpless. “Poor dear Connie may come out any minute. 
I really cannot break it to her. My handkerchief— 
thank you, dear Arthur. No, I don’t want anything else. 
I cannot help feeling, James, that you ought to have told 
us that Copper Top was at home, we should never have 
allowed-” 

She billowed across the lawn by the shortest route to 
the Farm holding the Professor firmly by the coat sleeve. 
His old resemblance to a guilty poacher had returned, 
and he not only looked the part, he felt it. But he was 
going to fight for the boy all the same. 

Mr. Fothersley remained behind and smoothed his 



402 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


ruffled feathers. No doubt James would apologise when 
he was less excited. In the meantime Mr. Fothersley 
collected Lady Condor's scattered fragments and thanked 
Heaven that he was a bachelor. Then he withdrew, 
temporarily, to a more secluded part of the garden. He, 
too, had no wish to break the news to poor dear 
Connie. 

'‘The thing is out of the question,” said Lord Condor, 
in a quiet voice that sent the Professor’s heart down into 
his boots. “The only thing is, how best to make the 
young people understand that.” 

The Family were sitting in conclave in his library. 
Lady Hawkhurst was really agitated, a most unusual 
thing. Lord Hawkhurst was on the verge of losing his 
temper and saying things that he knew he would after¬ 
wards regret. Lady Condor had thrown her load of 
distress and anxiety on to her husband’s capable 
shoulders, and was admiring the masterly way in which 
he was dealing with things. 

“I cannot understand Ishtar not recognising it!” 
Lord Hawkhurst exclaimed irritably. “It isn’t even 
reasonable to expect-” 

“Love isn’t reasonable. It’s the very reverse,” said 
Lord Condor. “But you must be reasonable, my boy. 
Open opposition will only do harm.” 

“Nothing shall induce me to sanction it,” said Lady 
Hawkhurst, and fixed the Professor with an angry eye. 
“Allow the child to ruin her life at eighteen! And what 
age is Copper Top? Nineteen! From that point of 
view alone, I refuse my consent.” 

“It is the correct age to marry and have children,” 
said the Professor. 

Lady Hawkhurst looked down her nose. Her lips as¬ 
sumed an expression of disgust. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


403 


“Is it necessary to be coarse?” she asked. 

“I beg your pardon,” answered the Professor. “I 
did not know it was coarse to marry and have children.” 

Lord Condor wagged a pacifying hand. “All this is 
beside the mark,” he said. 

The Professor raised his eyebrows. For the life of 
him he could not help it. 

“Look here, James,” continued Lord Condor. “You’re 
one of us, after all. You know as well as I do that this 
match is impossible. We’re all sorry, but there it is. 
Now are you going to do the right thing, and help us to 
let the young people down as easily as possible, we don’t 
want any imaginary broken hearts about, or are you go¬ 
ing to—well”—he smiled at the Professor delightfully, 
“be troublesome, Jimmy?” 

But the Professor refused to be wheedled. “I’m going 
to be troublesome,” he answered. “I approve of the 
match. I think it is for Ishtar’s good as well as Copper 
Top’s. Do you any of you suppose that I don’t consider 
Ishtar’s happiness?” He glared at them. “Of course 
I do. And it is the last thing you are all considering. 
You are considering quite other things.” 

“Not considering my own daughter’s happiness!” ex¬ 
claimed Lady Hawkhurst. “Really, I have never been 
so insulted in my life!” 

Her husband laid a restraining hand on her arm. 

“Leave it to father,” he murmured, and watched him 
with admiration. What a man on a committee! 

Lord Condor was smiling at the Professor more genial¬ 
ly than ever. 

“Come! Come!” he said. “That’s a bit sweeping, 
isn’t it? But if you won’t help us, James, you’ll under¬ 
stand if I ask you to leave the room while we consider 
what is to be done.” 


404 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Certainly/’ said the Professor, and got up at once. 
He looked at Lady Condor, but she avoided his eye. He 
knew she could be silent when her husband was in charge 
of an affair, yet her silence was the most sinister thing 
about the whole conclave. He had counted on her sup¬ 
port. Also he was conscious that he had not been so 
tactful as he had fully intended to be. But he made a 
last effort, and with dignity. 

“Before I go,” he said, “let me tell you that the boy 
and girl are very deeply in love, and ask you to remember 
that this is no sudden attachment; it has dated from their 
childhood. The boy is a good boy, good, straight, and 
clean, absolutely. He is in a position to marry. On 
the day he marries I settle £5,000 a year on him. No 
doubt she could marry a richer man, but we are not 
usurers. He has a great future before him, so I am 
assured, in the world of music.” 

Lady Hawkhurst lifted her eyes to the ceiling, and 
permitted herself an audible sniff. 

“You have really nothing against him,” the Professor 
went on steadily, “except that you do not know his 
parentage, and I would ask you to consider all that I 
have said in the balance with that objection, before you 
decide to destroy the most wonderful happiness that I 
have ever seen.” 

A sigh of relief ran round the little circle as he left the 
room. They all moved, almost unconsciously, into easier 
positions. His words had made no impression on them 
whatever. They might put all the things the Professor 
had mentioned into the balance with Copper Top’s un¬ 
known origin, and it would easily outweigh them all. 

“Besides,” said Lord Condor, “he’s only three-parts 
human. You don’t know how a fellow like that may 
develop. How much more peculiar he may get.” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


405 


“We all of us get more peculiar as we go on/' 
murmured Lady Condor. “Look at-” 

“I do think/’ interrupted Lord Hawkhurst, “that you 
were looking for trouble, Connie, when you let Ishtar 
go and stay up there.” 

“But Copper Top was at Cambridge, or at least he 
ought to have been,” wailed Lady Hawkhurst. “Why 
wasn’t he?” She looked round accusingly. 

“I think you might have found out,” complained her 
husband. “Didn’t Ishtar mention that he was there in 
her letters?” 

“Of course not, dear. I should have fetched her away 
at once if she had. She only wrote post cards. I’ve 
always hated them-” 

“You can’t help these things,” interposed Lady Condor. 
“If they’re going to happen they do. Why, I re¬ 
member-” 

“The only thing for it is the Fabian Policy,” said 
Lord Condor, who had been gazing up at the ceiling. 
“We’ve got to be careful. Ishtar’s too like Ricky for 
it to be safe to drive her, and James is capable of any 
iniquity. As for the boy, I take it he’s more or less an 
unknown quantity.” 

“But what are we to do?” asked Hawkhurst. “We 
can’t let them be engaged.” 

“Not officially,” said Lord Condor. “That is just the 
point. They must not be formally engaged for at least 
a year. And I should arrange that the rest of the season is 
spent in London, then Scotland, and so on. Invite the boy, 
of course. It is only fair that we should ask that he takes 
part in the life that she is accustomed to—and will expect 
to lead. As far as possible”—Lord Condor stroked his 
chin thoughtfully, and looked at his daughter-in-law— 
“I should arrange not to bring Ishtar down here.” 





406 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


'‘And you think-?” began Lady Hawkhurst. Was 

it possible that she could look cunning? 

Lord Condor smiled. ‘Tve seen Tarzan in London,” 
he said. “He looks like a moulting bird.” 

“I don’t like it very much,” said his son. “I’d rather 
a good deal stop the whole thing at once.” 

“So would I. So we could have two generations ago. 
But now—well, we can’t. Therefore I think this is the 
best and wisest course. It will give Ishtar a chance. 
I doubt very much if she would really like to live her 
life in the green wood under the stars sort of way. 
While you are in the throes of first love—perhaps. But 
for all your life—no. Anyway, it is only right to give 
the child time—and,” his eyes twinkled, “young Don a 
chance.” 

He heaved his great weight round, and looked again 
at his daughter-in-law. 

“You can let Ishtar know, tactfully, that it’s not 
exactly what we would have chosen. But no active 
opposition, mind, not a shadow, and not a word against 
the boy.” 

“I suppose it is the only thing,” said Lady Hawkhurst, 
with the resignation of despair. She looked at her hus¬ 
band, who nodded. 

“I can’t think what young MacClean’s been up to,” 
he said gloomily. 

“He was waiting till he left Cambridge to ask her 
again-” begain Lady Condor. 

“Again?” asked Lord Condor. 

“He asked her about a year ago,” explained Lady 
Hawkhurst. She looked at her husband. “I told 
you-” 

“Yes. It was too soon, of course. She was only 


seventeen- 






THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


407 


“The age your grandmothers all married at,” said 
Lady Condor. “But it’s no good talking. Everyone 
did everything for the best. We always do. But what’s 
going to happen happens all the same, and there it is. 
Though I don’t know that it’s any comfort, dear 
Connie-” 

She laid a kind hand on her daughter-in-law’s arm, and 
just then the door opened rather slowly and Ishtar stood 
there smiling at them. It was a dear little smile, shy 
and sweet and a little frightened, and they all felt like 
conspirators. They had an uneasy feeling that they 
looked like them. Lord Condor cleared his throat some¬ 
what loudly. 

“Cousin James has told you.” She moved a few 
steps into the room and stopped, looking from one to 
the other. Rose-flushed, star-eyed, wrapped in a halo 
of happiness, her beauty struck them as some new 
thing. 

“Upon my word, too good for any man,” thought 
Lord Condor. He put out a friendly hand, and she came 
and stood beside him, facing the others. 

“I hope you don’t all mind very much,” she said 
shyly. “I know it isn’t just what you would like best. 
But it is there—there doesn’t seem anything else in the 
world.” 

“Well! Well!” Her grandfather patted her hand. 
“You stay and talk it over with your father and mother. 
Where’s Tarzan? I suppose you’ve got him somewhere 
handy?” 

Ishtar blushed, and smiled divinely. 

“He’s on the lawn, just outside,” she said. 

“I’ll go and have a talk with him.” Lord Condor 
heaved himself out of his chair, patted the top of her 
head, and progressed, in his slow, soft way, out to the 



408 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


lawn, where he found Copper Top seated cross-legged 
on the grass surrounded by adoring West Highlanders. 

He did not appear to be suffering from any anxiety, 
and certainly from no shyness. He scattered the dogs 
and came to meet Lord Condor, smiling and unem¬ 
barrassed. He did not really understand everybody’s 
attitude, but he was used to that. 

Lord Condor greeted him cordially, and, walking to 
and fro on the lawn, expounded the views of the family 
to him. Copper Top listened politely and with such 
complete silence that at last Lord Condor began to wonder 
what it meant. There was an odd twinkle in the boy’s 
eyes, a queer little twitch at the corners of his mouth, 
that almost suggested amusement. 

“You see, marriage is not a thing you can afford to 
make a mistake about; it’s a life business, and a difficult 
one, too,” Lord Condor wound up what he felt was be¬ 
coming something in the nature of a speech. “So I hope 
you and Ishtar will agree to wait as we suggest.” 

He looked at Copper Top, inviting a response. 

“What for?” asked Copper Top in his direct way. 
“Until we have fallen in love with each other? But we 
have done that. You need not be in the least anxious 
about it. Perhaps though”—the little twitch at the 
corners of his mouth became more pronounced—“per¬ 
haps you are thinking that if we go through a year of 
this uncomfortable arrangement we shall fall out again. 
That is really what you are driving at, isn’t it?” he ended 
quite simply. 

“No! No!” exclaimed Lord Condor, telling the con¬ 
ventional lie before he realised that he was lying. 
Something in Copper Top’s direct gaze brought the fact 
home to him. Confound the fellow. Why couldn’t he 
take the pill in the jam provided for it. Even now he 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


409 


could not bring himself to throw his birth, or rather his 
want of it, in his face. A deuced unpleasant thing not 
to know who your father was. 

“I can assure you it is a very usual arrangement when 
the two young people who want to get married are still 
in their teens,” he said. 

“When the older people don’t approve of it,” added 
Copper Top quietly. 

Confound the fellow again! If only he would not look 
amused! Lord Condor realised that he was actually at 
a disadvantage, and gave up being diplomatic. 

“Look here, Tarzan, to be quite frank with you, we 
would rather this had not happened. It isn’t that we 
don’t like you personally. We do.” He laid a kind, 
heavy hand on Copper Top’s shoulder. “But as a hus¬ 
band for Ishtar, well, frankly, no!” 

Copper Top smiled, suddenly and delightfully. “Of 
course you don’t,” he agreed. “It is better not to roll 
things up. I am at a big disadvantage as it is. It’s not 
quite fair not to be honest with me.” The amusement 
had quite gone from his face now. He spoke seriously, 
and his manner had a certain gracious dignity. “You 
will all of you do your best to persuade Ishtar to do what 
you want. That is your way. You think you have the 
right. With me it is different. I shall not try to make 
her do what I want. That is a thing I must not do. To 
me it seems wrong. It would spoil everything. So you 
see,” he smiled at Lord Condor with a suspicion of mis¬ 
chief, “there was no need for you to worry to tell me 
all that-” 

“No—no—I see,” said Lord Condor, and laughed. 
His hand tightened affectionately on the boy’s shoulder. 
He was honestly sorry for the lad. “My dear fellow, I 
beg your pardon for my well-meant efforts.” 



410 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

Copper Top stopped their walk, turned, and faced him. 

“I want to marry Ishtar now—now/’ he said. “It is 
the middle of the Perfect Hour. It is the Time. And 
if she will, you have no right to stop her.” 

His face was alight with something that Lord Condor 
had never seen before, though he recognised it. Pure 
passion. The Flame upon the Altar. 

“Upon my word,” he said afterwards to his wife, 
“we may be thankful he isn’t playing for his own hand. 
But it’s queer—deuced queer-” 

It was at that moment Ishtar came out and joined 
them, flushed and smiling and very sweet. She took her 
grandfather’s arm and gave it a little squeeze, then moved 
to Copper Top’s side. As Lord Condor turned away, he 
heard her say, “Dear, they have been so nice about it. 
They only want us to wait—just for a little.” 

He could not resist looking back. The light had gone 
out of the boy’s face. 

The Family insisted that Copper Top should stay for 
the rest of the day. Dinner was a long affair. The close 
air, the smell of food and wine, the courses that came and 
went, he disliked it all. The conversation was a little 
difficult. Even Lady Condor’s lacked its usual savour. 

Copper Top had had an interview with Lady Hawk- 
hurst. A terrible affair. It seemed to him that she had 
beaten five words into his brain with horrible per¬ 
sistence. “What Ishtar is accustomed to.” “What 
Ishtar is accustomed to.” They jingled in his mind all 
through dinner. Ishtar was to return to London with 
them on the morrow. He was to follow as soon as he 
liked and stay as long as he could. He already felt like 
that moulting bird to which Lord Condor had likened 
him. 

After dinner he and Ishtar went into the garden among 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


411 

the moonlit flowers. He drew in long breaths. How 
cool it was, how good. “What Ishtar is accustomed 
to.” 

“You do like this best, Star?” he asked. 

“Of course I do.” She looked like a moonbeam 
maiden herself. “But it’s fun in London, too. You’ll 
like it when you get used to it all.” She felt him shrink 
a little. “Oh, Copper Top, you will come. I’ll get down 
to the Little House—the dear Little House—as often as 
I can. But you will come ?” 

She clung to him, lifting her face to his. She wanted 
—what did she want? He held her lightly—lightly as a 
flower he touched her offered lips. 

“Beloved.” His voice was grave, charged with deeper 
feeling than Copper Top usually showed. “Beloved, come 
away with me now. Come back to the forest. All the 
world is ours to-day. But nothing stays where it is. 
That is why to-day matters so much. Will you come ?” 

“Now?” Ishtar exclaimed. “Oh, Copper Top, I 
couldn’t!” she repeated. “It would hurt them all so 
dreadfully. It would be a dreadful thing to do. You 
don’t understand, dear. They love me too. I couldn’t 
hurt them like that.” 

She looked earnestly into his face. It was very pale, 
and the light had gone out of it. 

“I do want to,” she said. “I do want to. But it is 
only for a little while. Please don’t mind very much.” 

She folded her hands against his breast, looking up 
at him, and he looked down into her eyes for quite a 
long time very steadfastly. 

“I shall not mind if it is what you wish,” he said. 

That night Ishtar leant out of her window and watched 
the star above the tallest tree-top for quite a long time, 
and wondered—wondered if she wished—it was silly of 


412 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

course—but did she? Wish that he had minded—just a 
little. 

If he had carried her off—so that she could not help 
it—so that it wasn’t her fault—like they did in Fairy 
Tales- 

The very fancy made her feel warm and lovely as she 
slipped into bed. 



CHAPTER IX 


There are moments in the lives of most of us, when all 
the armour of the spirit in which we trusted is smitten 
from us, and we are left naked to cope with the beast 
from which we came. Such a moment fell upon Don Mac- 
Clean as he read Ishtar’s letter. 

It had not been easy to write, and one effort after 
another had gone into the waste-paper basket before she 
had finally, in despair, posted the almost child-like, and 
very badly written little effusion that he found on his 
breakfast table on the morning he was leaving Cambridge. 

“Copper Top and I have found out that we love each 
other, and although we are not to be engaged just yet, 
publicly I mean, I want you to know, dear Don.” 

At first he stared at the bald little sentence without 
being able to grasp its full significance. He even helped 
himself mechanically to coffee, and eggs and bacon, in a 
curious numb sort of way, before that which lay in wait 
fell upon him. 

Then he pushed his chair back from the table slowly, 
staring blindly in front of him, and felt suddenly 
physically sick. 

All the training of his life, all the influences, not only 
of his own past, but of the past laid deep down in him by 
his forefathers, had made for the suppression of feeling. 
He had refused to recognise his passions, as unworthy 
things, had banked down his fires without in the least 
413 


414 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


suspecting their violence. And now, suddenly and with¬ 
out warning, they flared up, and destroyed in one fierce 
cataclysm the bulwarks of heredity and training. Strip¬ 
ped and helpless in their grip, passion took possession, 
and scourged him body and soul. 

He thought of Ishtar as he had never allowed himself 
to think before. In some vague way it had seemed like 
a want of respect—of reverence. Now, the desire to 
possess her, which he had hidden in the most sacred re¬ 
cesses of his being, came out and devoured him. He 
realised in bitter fullness the seductive appeal of her fair 
pathetic beauty. Realised it in another man’s arms. God! 
Oh God! And he was impotent! He could do nothing 
—nothing. Oh God! Oh God! He stretched his arms 
out, the fingers of his strong hands drawn up. It was an 
unconscious movement, but horrible, sinister. His face 
was wrung with agony. He was white as the dead. The 
sun-brown on his skin had a curious look—artificial. He 
struggled violently for the last remnants of self-control, 
then, utterly overmastered and broken down, he buried 
his ravaged face in his hands and sobbed. 

He did not know how long he sat there, his soul a 
naked, helpless thing in a vortex of Desire, Jealousy, and 
Hatred. Footsteps had come and gone, there had been 
various knockings at the door. Presently these assumed 
some violence, and, as it were from some long ago past, 
he heard his name shouted. 

Why couldn’t they leave him alone? What did they 
want? It was Richard Moresby’s voice. That long ago 
past began to assert itself. Richard? Yes—he remem¬ 
bered. They were to have travelled together. He was 

going to stay with the Condors—the train- He looked 

at his watch. It was past eleven. The train—the train 
went- 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


415 


With a wrench he pulled himself together as well as he 
could. He began to feel ashamed—almost guilty. The 
everyday world rolled back into its place. He hated it. 

He crossed the room and unlocked the door. 

“My dear chap-” Richard burst in, then stopped, 

staring first at the untouched breakfast, then at Don. 
“What’s the matter?” he ended, on a note of astonish¬ 
ment. 

Don sat down again. He felt cold and sick. 

“That,” he said, and moved Ishtar’s letter across the 
table. 

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Richard, as he read. 
“Copper? Why, it’s absurd!” He looked up. “I say, 
old fellow, then you-” 

“Didn’t you know? I should have thought it was 
pretty obvious,” said Don, bitterly. 

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Richard again. He gazed at 
his friend in dismay. “Does—does Ishtar know? And 
she wants to marry old Copper? But it’s ridiculous! 

One likes him all right—but for Ishtar to marry- 

And she might have had you-” 

He pulled a chair forward and sat down with his legs 
across it and his arms folded on the back. There he 
continued to look comically perplexed. It was pretty 
rotten seeing old Don bowled over like this. A suspicion 
that he had been crying Richard shovelled away into the 
background with loyal haste. It was queer how a fellow 
could break up over a girl. And Don—Don? Why any 

girl ought to be thankful- Ishtar didn’t know what 

she was thinking of—he would speak to her- 

“I say, old chap, what are you going to do?” he asked 
at length. 

“Do!” echoed Don. “What is there to do? She cares 
for him. They’re engaged—between themselves.” He 





416 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


writhed at the pictures his words conjured up. “I can’t 
kill him, though Td like to.” 

Richard’s dismay increased. His idol was showing 
himself in an altogether new light. He didn’t quite like 
it. He would have been less astonished, and certainly 
less concerned, if the statue of Henry the Eighth had 
descended from its niche and held forth in this style. 

“I mean, what are you going to do now?” he asked. 
“The train goes at twelve and it’s past eleven now. You 
aren’t packed, are you? I’d better shovel your things 
together.” 

Don pushed his hair back from his forehead. 

“I can’t come with you,” he said. 

“But—but what will you do then?” 

“Go back to Storne.” He made an effort to pull him¬ 
self together, and managed a stiff smile. “I’m afraid I’ve 
been making a fool of myself, Dick. Don’t you bother. 
I’ll catch the night mail. I’ll be all right.” 

“Look here,” said Richard. “They’ll never let Izzy 
marry him—never—you take my word for it. But I 
suppose you’ve done with her now-” 

“Done with her!” cried poor Don. “Why—I’d—I’d 
give everything I have in the world for her. I’d-” 

His passion caught him by the throat again and choked 
him. 

“Well then-? And they’ll never allow it. I 

wouldn’t. Why—why he’s a—not a changeling—you 
know what I mean—a foundling—that’s it!” 

“It doesn’t make any difference. She cares for him. 
Don’t you see—that’s what matters.” 

Don moved to the window. He had been prowling 
restlessly about the room, kicking everything that came in 
his way. The window was full of sunshine. Odd insects 
were buzzing. The subtle intrigant scent of wisteria on 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


4 U 


a hot day filled the air. Again the fierce desire for Ishtar 
tore him. The fragrance of her assailed him even as the 
scent of the flower. He turned fiercely. 

“I’d kill him with my two hands if it would do any 
good,” he said. “But it wouldn’t.” 

Richard moved a little, uncomfortably. Old Don really 
was going a bit far. It was queer how a fellow could go 
on about a girl. Lost their heads like anything over 
them. But old Don—and Izzy—what a little idiot! 
Girls- 

“Girls are queer things,” he said. “I don’t think they 
really know what they want. She’ll find out she’s made 
the deuce of a mistake. You see if she doesn’t.” 

Don, listening to these well-meant efforts at consola¬ 
tion, was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of nausea. 
Oh, how futile it all was! How utterly dreary. The 
cold breakfast. The forlorn room stripped of the trim¬ 
mings that had made it his. And Richard sitting there 
with his pleasant face looking curiously unfamiliar. 

The joy and interest of life had been suddenly stricken 
out of it. Everything filled him with a sense of disgust. 
There was nothing in the whole wide world that he 
wanted to do—that would give him the smallest pleasure 
to do. There was nowhere that he wanted to go. An 
overwhelming blank emptiness possessed his soul. 

He must move—must get away somewhere by himself. 
With a sense of relief the thought of his own home came 
to him. The wide stretches of bare hillside. The 
babbling streams. The cool, clean greyness. His dogs— 
his dogs? Yes. The companionship of human beings 
would be unbearable. But Jock and Betty and Pickle. 
He saw their rapturous welcome, their eager, faithful 
eyes—felt their mute, humble sympathy. Oh, he wanted 
them. 


418 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


So Don went to his own home, and fought his battle 
wandering with his dogs over moorland and mountain, 
among the grey boulders and the curlew’s call. 

The great stone mansion, the walled garden, the 
bracken-carpeted woods, were all full of memories. 
Memories of Ishtar. Everywhere visions of her rare 
pale beauty shone upon him—beyond his reach. The old 
dreams would come back and he would have to tear him¬ 
self away from them or go mad. He had been so sure 
of her. Once he had been anxious, just for a little while, 
but of late he had been so sure. Life had been such a 
ripping thing. And the future even more wonderful and 
desirable than the present. The plunge from the heights 
to the depths was well-nigh past bearing. He began to 
understand how men did the seemingly incredible things 
that you read about in the papers. 

Out in the great spaces of moor and hill it was more 
endurable. He walked and walked until he was so tired 
that he had to sleep. He grew to dread, a little less, the 
early morning waking, before even the summer dawn had 
come, into a horrible new world in which he had no single 
interest. He began to pull himself together, to fight 
with this intolerable state of misery, to think things out. 

At first he told himself that he ought to be ashamed of 
the passion that tore him. But however often he told 
himself this, however many precepts and maxims raised 
their voices in support of it, although he linked up the 
Flesh with the Devil, even as he had been taught, still the 
fact remained that of it he was not ashamed. 

Of his murderous hatred of Copper Top, of his 
weakness, of his tears, poor boy, yes. Of his passion, 
no. 

He sat for long hours, high up among the grey rocks, 
where the wind blew keen and cold even in June, and 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


419 


wrestled with all that went to the making of that which 
was Don MacClean. There stirred in his blood age-long 
memories. Once—more than once—again and again—he 
had fought for his mate—the mate he had desired. 
Fought and died. Fought and killed. It was a good 
way. A straight issue. His blood moved to it still. To 
the Victor the spoils. To the Race the issue of the better 
man. And the mate understood. The mate followed. 
Yes, a good way. He was not ashamed. No, by God, 
he was not ashamed. He flung all effort after shame 
from him, and gloried in his passion. Though it scourged 
and burnt and devoured him, yet it was the greatest thing 
that he had ever known. And with that knowledge 
courage returned to him. It was the greatest force in 
the world. He would fight with it for his mate. Even 
as long ago he had fought. To the strongest the prize. 
He would fight. 

In a strange exaltation of spirit, he put from him his 
despair, his weakness, his rage. He would go back to 
Ishtar, and fight for her. 

He stood high on the hilltop. The winds tore round 
him and the curlews called. His passion chanted some 
great song in his blood. It was Life. It was Power. 
He would go back and fight. He tossed his challenge to 
the brooding clouds. Out of them Ishtar’s face shone like 
a listening star. 

And so Don went back. 

In the meantime Copper Top faithfully, if unwillingly, 
kept his promise and followed Ishtar to London. He 
stayed at the Condors’ town house, the straight soot- 
darkened mansion at the corner of Bargrave Square. In 
the middle of the square, fenced in by high iron railings, 
plane trees had manfully put forth their yearly wealth of 
leaves, and in prim beds of curious coloured mould late 


420 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


spring flowers still lingered. He had a fellow-feeling for 
them, also a deep admiration for the manful way in which 
they struggled with such very trying circumstances. 

“There will always be the gardens for you when you 
find the house too close,” said Lady Hawkhurst. “There 
is a gate almost opposite. You must have the key. Keep 
it in your pocket because no one else ever uses it.” 

But Copper could not sit in the gardens. He felt more 
than ever as if he were in prison. The worn patches on 
the grass, the naked grey stalks of the ivy, the plants 
with their leaves full of holes, the soot-blackened cobwebs 
under everything. They were all prisoners. It filled him 
with distress. 

However, he knew that Lady Hawkhurst had meant 
well. Indeed they were all very good to him, for not only 
were they a family quite incapable of being unkind to 
anyone beneath their roof, but they also had a little un¬ 
comfortable feeling of duplicity foreign to their natural 
instincts. Nothing but their political training of genera¬ 
tions made the present situation possible to them. And 
even then, it was one thing to pursue these methods for 
a wise—undoubtedly wise—end, against a political 
adversary, and quite another to employ them against a 
friend. So they all put the underlying motive of Copper 
Top’s visit out of their minds as far as possible—it was 
not difficult in the middle of the rush and bustle of the 
London Season—and were very kind to him. 

Only Lady Hawkhurst did not put it away. She dis¬ 
liked the whole situation intensely, and the more she dis¬ 
liked it the more determined she was that it should not 
fail in its purpose. She saw to it that Ishtar did the 
London Season, or what was left of it, very 
thoroughly. 

“If, my dear,” she said, “you have decided to spend the 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


421 


rest of your life in a rabbit hutch in a wood sort of way, 
you may as well enjoy yourself while you can.” 

She saw to it also that Ishtar had an extremely good 
time. 

And Copper Top did his best. There were odd hours, 
extremely difficult to come by, when he got Ishtar to him¬ 
self in surroundings that did not choke him, and his in¬ 
terest in the extraordinary habits of human beings helped 
him to bear things. But oh, the glorious and adorable 
world of sea and sky and forest that was singing and 
revelling in the clean spaces of sunlight! While he sat 
mewed up on a bench perhaps, watching men throwing 
and hitting a ball, he felt just like one of the birds he 
had seen at the Zoo, who sat on a perch in a cage. Un¬ 
fortunately, even when Ishtar sat beside him, it did not 
satisfy him to the exclusion of all else, as it would have 
most men in the same circumstances. It was certainly 
something that she was enjoying herself, and at any rate 
they were out of doors, under the sky, and in fairly fresh 
air. But the dances! He hated them. Yes. He really 
hated them. 

He would watch, in sheer amazement, these beings as 
they stepped and shifted, and paused and moved on again, 
with a carefulness that was almost terrible. He would 
watch their faces as they stared over each other's 
shoulders, faces so anxious that they would have been 
painful if they hadn't been laughable, solemn, serious 
faces, faces of people grappling with a matter of vital and 
overwhelming importance. He would watch the awkward 
and unseemly movements of body or limb, the total lack 
of natural ease or grace and wonder. The music hurt 
him. It came to him merely as noise. The dead air, 
filled with the strong mingling of perfumes and bodies, 
with moving dust, sickened him. 


422 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“But they are not enjoying themselves! Look at them! 
They can’t be,” he said to Ishtar. 

“But they must be, or why do they come, ,, she 
answered. “And I enjoy it—with you,” she added, and 
smiled divinely into his puzzled face. “Oh, Copper Top, 
dear, it really is lovely!” 

He danced with her, but he hated it. And she thought 
it lovely, poor Star! If she would only come away—to 

his wonderful world—where he could show her- He 

would dance for a little while, as long as he could bear it, 
moving about in his swift easy way among the shifting 
throng of perspiring bodies, and then he would leave her 
and go down to the river. The river was the only thing 
in this great city that they could not shut up. He would 
watch it flowing away to the sea and freedom, and wonder 
how long he could possibly bear this life, even with 
snatched visits to the Little House, where he and the 
Professor relieved their feelings together. 

The little political dinners that Ishtar loved tired him 
even more than the dances. Through the many courses, 
in the hot rooms, listening to the babel of voices, he 
wondered at the zest with which they schemed and fought, 
for things which seemed to him of such small importance. 
He wondered at the methods they employed, recognised 
methods, so it seemed. To do evil that good might come 
out of it was so unutterably silly, was in flat opposition 
even to the thing they called common-sense and seemed to 
believe in. 

He did not discuss these things with Ishtar with a view 
to making her see things as he did. That was not Copper 
Top’s way. Instead he made, what was, for him, a really 
valiant effort to get at her point of view. But in the effort 
the radiant quality of his personality suffered. It became 
dimmed. He seemed to lose colour, as a flower will taken 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


423 


from the outer light. He was rapidly fulfilling Lord 
Condor’s prophecy and beginning to resemble a moulting 
bird. 

Then there came a night when he stood disconsolately 
in the window of his airless and heavily furnished bed¬ 
room, and watched the play of the plane-branch shadows 
in the moonlight. He had been to the theatre. Lady 
Condor had taken a box at the latest thing in revues. He 
had stood behind her chair and gazed and listened in 
the greatest maze of astonishment that had yet enveloped 
him. Up to the present time he had avoided theatres as 
he avoided all places where people congregated in dust 
and large numbers. But Lady Condor had been so sure 
that he would love a revue. 

Certainly everybody was laughing, but he had never 
realised before what extraordinary things made people 
laugh. And they were enjoying themselves—at least he 
supposed they were. Their faces were brighter than 
usual, and hardly anybody looked cross or worried. Yet, 
oddly enough, never since he came to London had he 
yearned quite so desperately for the freedom of space and 
bright mornings. 

The plane branches waved gently, forming their 
exquisite patterns on the moonlit pavements. The moon 
had a look of mischief on her round face as she peeped at 
him between the chimneys from her spacious distance. 
He leant further out of the window and looked up at the 
little clouds scurrying in feathery haste high above him. 
They were in such a tearing hurry that all the stars 
laughed. That settled it. Copper Top gave a chuckle, 
the whole-hearted chuckle of a child at some pleasant 
thought and determination. He changed his clothes 
swiftly and slipped out over the window-sill. He dropped 
with the ease and skill of a cat on to the balustrade that 


424 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


ran round the top of the second floor windows and fol¬ 
lowed it round the comer of the house until he came to 
the window of Ishtar’s room. He was careful not to 
frighten her and she heard his voice almost before she 
saw the outline of his head against the moonlit square 
of the window. 

She was in bed, and when she saw him she sat up, hold¬ 
ing the sheet with both hands under her chin and looking 
at him over the edge with startled eyes. In the moon’s 
rays her hair shone like an aureole of silver light round 
the exquisite dim oval of her face. 

He laughed softly. The room seemed alive with the 
sound. 

“Oh Star,” he said, “you look like one of them! A 
frightened one!” 

“Copper Top,” in a horrified whisper, “the policeman 
will see you!” 

At which Copper Top sat on the window-ledge and 
gave himself up to mirth, unrestrained and altogether 
demoralising. 

“He will chase me over the house-tops among the 
chimneys, Star, what fun! I will make him lose his 
helmet and his truncheon and his great big boots. And 
his belt and his large-buttoned coat,” he chanted. “And 
when we get to the brown earth and the wet fields he will 
be in his shirt and socks and his own soul. . . .” 

“But what are you doing out there?” she interrupted 
him. 

“I am going home,” he answered. “To the winds 
and the clouds and the trees. I will see the sun rise clear 
and clean, and hear the larks sing. I thought you would 
like to come too.” 

“Now?” she said, amazed. “But it is the middle of 
the night.” 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


425 


“Why not? That’s just what it ought to be.” 

Swathed in the moonlight, his figure assumed a mys¬ 
terious quality. Life, mirth, and a very spirit of mis¬ 
chief, shone from him. Something caught her breath. 
The room was full of the scent of fields, of the sound of 
running water. Stars danced. Some sense of undreamt 
wonder stole upon her. She sat bolt upright. She shone 
like a flower in the moonlight. Oh, it would be fun. 
Glorious fun. Across the fields—over the hills—under 

the moon- And then terror seized her. There were 

voices outside her door—coming—her mother’s deep 

beautiful voice—her father’s answering- 

She slipped down under the bedclothes. Her heart 
thumped up into her throat. 

“Go away. Quick!” she whispered urgently to Copper 
Top. 

“What is it?” he whispered back. Then the voices 

came to him. “I’ll wait. By the gardens-” 

“No! No!” Her father must have come back late 
from the House. Her mother had sat up for him. “I 
can’t come. I can’t! I’ll come down to-morrow. I’ll 

make them let me. No—there is a rehearsal- Oh go! 

You must go!” 

All the full awfulness of the fact that Copper Top was 
in her bedroom at midnight swept over her, obliterating 
everything else. Her father and mother were passing the 
door—she held her breath. 

“I fancy I’ll try those carbolic injections,” said Lord 
Hawkhurst, in that calibre of whisper calculated to wake 
the dead. “They positively cured Pope Rawlings so he 

gave me to understand-” 

“I think I should try Witch-Hazel first,” replied Lady 

Hawkhurst in the same key. “Lady Boger-” 

The huge whispers died away—and Ishtar lifted her 








426 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

head cautiously and looked at the window. Copper Top 
had gone. There was only a blank square of moonlight, 
and beyond it the plane branches waving grey leaves. 
Her father’s and mother’s rooms were on the other side 
of the passage. She heard the doors close. 

For a few moments she waited, then she slipped out of 
bed and across the room. She leant out of the window. 
The whole face of the great house lay unstirred. There 
were distant sounds, but in the square all was still. 
Nothing moved save the plane leaves. 

“Copper Top!” she called, softly and urgently. 

But no answer came. He had gone. Away into fold 
after fold of misty darkness very cool to touch, until he 
would come to whispering woods and grasses wet with 
dew, where winds were sweet with all lovely and fragrant 
things. And she might have gone with him, moving 
swiftly, holding his hand through the stillness of the 
summer night. If she had not been afraid! She felt like 
crying. Why hadn’t Copper Top made her go with him? 
It would have been so easy really—just to slip down the 
stairs and out of the big door. She did wish he would 
make her do these things that she was afraid to do. Why 
didn’t he? Then she laughed a little at herself. Could 
he have made her? Would she ever really have done 
such a thing, however much he had persuaded her? She 
did not know. 

The next morning she paid a visit to her grandmother 
at the time when she was breakfasting alone in her own 
room. Lady Condor never came down to breakfast, and 
it was only when they had something very special to talk 
to her about that any of her family disturbed her at this 
hour. 

She was in a confidential mood when Ishtar made her 
apologies. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


427 


‘T make this rule so as not to breakfast with your 
grandfather,” she said. “Husbands and wives should 
never breakfast together—that is to say when the honey¬ 
moon is over. I am sure there would be fewer unhappy 
marriages if they did not. No man is at his best at 
breakfast, and even if they are not cross—eating a boiled 
egg, you know—I never think men with beards or 
moustaches ought to do such a thing in public. But men 
are so fond of them for breakfast—poor dear Millie 
Power told me her husband would drink raw eggs out of 
a tumbler—that was really why she divorced him—not 

the other things- But where were we, my dear ? You 

wanted to tell me about something—yes?” 

“Grannie,” said Ishtar, “I nearly ran away with Copper 
Top last night.” 

Lady Condor arrested her coffee cup in mid-air at a 
precarious angle. For a moment she did not quite take 
it in. 

“Ran away?” she repeated. “Last night? But we 
were at the theatre.” 

“It was after that,” answered Ishtar. “About one 
o’clock it must have been. He came to my room-” 

“Your bedroom!” Lady Condor looked at the girl 
over her coffee cup with eyes of horror. 

Ishtar nodded. She was rather enjoying herself. “He 
sat on the window-sill. I told him the policeman would 
see him. He was going to the Little House. He asked 
me to go with him. Oh, Grannie, I did want to. It 
would have been so lovely.” 

“He ought to be ashamed of himself,” Lady Condor 
broke forth. The full iniquity of Copper Top’s behaviour 
dawning upon her, her mind flew about at great speed in 
various directions. “He must know better than that— 
your father—he deserves a good horse-whipping.” 




428 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Father ?” asked Ishtar. But her smile quivered. 
“Grannie darling, if you are going to be angry, what shall 
I do? Copper Top would never think for a moment that 
it mattered. You know he wouldn’t. He hasn’t got a— 
a horrid thought about him. And I never thought you 
would have either or I wouldn’t have told you.” 

“Well, upon my word,” said Lady Condor slowly, and 
set her cup of coffee down at last, untasted. 

“He just sat on the window-sill and the room filled 
with moonlight, and everything seemed wider and 
sweeter, and he looked like a moonbeam himself. Gran¬ 
nie”—she leant forward and her earnestness seemed to 
touch Lady Condor like some tangible thing—“you don’t 
know how beautiful he is sometimes—nobody knows— 
except me—and perhaps ’Dophin. When he is like that 
if he tried to make me go with him I believe I should go. 
But he’s funny that way, he never tries to make people 
do what he wants. But perhaps I might go of myself one 
day, that’s why I’m telling you about it. If father and 
mother hadn’t happened to go to bed late—they passed 
the door and frightened me. I made Copper Top go. 
But afterwards I wished I hadn’t, dreadfully. If he had 
come back I would have gone. At least I’m almost sure 
that I would. And I’d hate to hurt you all like that, and 
you’d think it so horrible of me-” 

“You must not think of doing such a thing, my dear! 
It would be worse than horrible—it would be madness! 
In the middle of the night too!” Lady Condor was 
really agitated. “It must have been the moon made you 
even think of such a thing. But what is it you want, 
darling?” 

“Well, you see, at first I was so glad that you weren’t 
all dead against it that anything seemed better, though of 
course I knew everyone thought I would change my mind 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


429 


when I saw how impossible it would be for Copper Top 
to live the life we do. Only Ive known all the time it 
would be impossible. I’ve always known how much I 
shall have to give up if I marry him. But oh, Grannie, 

I know too what I’ll gain! His world is such a wonderful 
world—you never miss this one when you are with him— 
really with him. I hoped you'd understand." She looked 
at Lady Condor reproachfully. “You did say you’d 
have followed Grandpa round the world on your bare 
feet and it was the only way-” 

“Did I, my dear? I do say the most terribly foolish 
things sometimes. Well, I might have done it too. But 
I’m very glad I didn’t. I am sure it would not have been 
a success—no. It has taken all we have to pull it through 
as it is. Marriage isn’t an easy thing. There are the 
people who tell you what difficult husbands or wives 
they’ve got to deal with—and there are the people who 
don’t tell you—but every one of them is making the best 
of it—you’ve got to-’’ 

Lady Condor appeared to have dropped into a soliloquy, 
interspersed with mouthfuls of toast and marmalade. 

“But you older people are always trying to get us 
young ones married,’’ interrupted Ishtar, “so long as we 
marry the people you want us to.’’ 

“Well, we have to,’’ protested Lady Condor. “You are 
none of you satisfied unless you get married, poor dears, 
and so of course the great thing is to see that you marry 
the right person.’’ 

“Copper Top says you’ve none of you any business to 
interfere.’’ 

“Oh, he does, does he?’’ said Lady Condor. “And 
what does Master Copper Top, who has been brought up 
in a forest by your Cousin James, know about it, do you 
suppose ?’’ 




430 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“He’s seen more of the world-” 

“Not Our world, my dear-” 

“And Cousin James knows more than anyone else 
I-” 

“But in such a curious way-” 

“And if you heard Copper Top talk about mating-’’ 

“Mating!” ejaculated Lady Condor. She leant back 
in her chair and repeated faintly, “Mating. You are not 
birds, my dear.” 

Mating? The word was almost improper—and yet— 
really- 

Here Ishtar, who had been contending with mingled 
emotions, fell away into laughter. After a struggle with 
her outraged feelings Lady Condor joined in, and com¬ 
plete harmony was restored. 

“My dear, I believe we were almost arguing,” she said. 
“And I never argue with anyone. It is one of the 
valuable things that matrimony teaches the sensible 
woman. Never argue—no—and though I am not sen¬ 
sible-” 

“Then, darling”—Ishtar supplied her with a fresh 
piece of toast from the electric toaster—“why 
do you try to be? You are so much more your 
beloved self when you are the opposite of sensible, 
whatever it is-” 

“Nonsensible of course, my dear. Or is it nonsensical? 
Very well then, I will not try to be sensible any more— 
and dear Ricky used to say my nonsense was better than 
other people’s sense, but whichever it is—I think it is 
better to tell you the truth, because we have none of us 
taken you in with our little bit of diplomacy—and of 
course the truth is always the best, I suppose, though no 
one seems to believe it is or why do they—but where were 
we ? Oh—yes ” 








THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


43i 

She paused and looked at Ishtar very sweetly, with love 
in her kind, shrewd eyes. 

“I don’t want you to marry Copper Top,” she said. 
“One might as well think of marrying a—a will-o’-the- 
wisp !” 

“Oh, Grannie! A will-o’-the-wisp isn’t a real thing at 
all, and Copper Top is the realest thing I’ve ever known. 

If you follow him, you do get-” She paused. Where 

was it you got? 

Lady Condor finished the sentence for her. “You get 
somewhere wonderful. Oh yes, my dear. When I was a 
girl, over in the old home, that world used to come very 
close sometimes. But I was alone you see—none of the 

boys-” She paused, old memories returned to her. 

“Ishtar,” she began, and paused again. Finally she asked 
the question that was in her mind, almost in a whisper. 
“Ishtar, are you not afraid?” 

“No,” said Ishtar. “And yet—and yet I am afraid. 
But I don’t know what I am afraid of. Sometimes I 
think it is really this life I am afraid of—not Copper 
Top’s. It is this that would hurt.” Her eyes grew dark 
as she brooded. “If I had not been afraid, for all of 
you, I would never have come back—don’t you see— 
sometimes I wonder how I ever did.” 

“Ah-h!” murmured Lady Condor under her breath. 
In the silence that followed she heard the ticking of the 
clock, and the noise of the maids doing the next room, 
with irritating distinctness. How silly they had all been 
with their well-meant usual efforts. How far from really 
helping the child with the problem before her. 

“What do you want me to do for you, darling?” she 
asked. 

“I want to go down to the Castle for week-ends, like 
we always used to do. I want to be allowed to be in the 



43 2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


forest with Copper Top sometimes. I must see him and 
I am not going to have him back here any more. He 
hates it all, and I hate it for him. He’ll never do the 
things we do, never. And you won’t make me take a 
dislike to him because he’s so out of it all, and looks like 
a bird in a cage.” Her eyes twinkled. “So what good is 
it?” 

“Not much, I’m afraid,” returned Lady Condor, 
thoughtfully. “I will have a little talk with your mother, 
my dear. But you must not hold any more pistols to my 
head. I shall not tell her of the pistol,” and Lady 
Condor’s eyes had their twinkle, “but try and remember 
that all this has been a sad blow to her, and pray, pray 
do not think of such a thing as running away.” 

Ishtar smiled, though a little ruefully. “You’re quite 
safe, Grannie, if you don’t drive me to it. I’m sorry if 
I’ve worried your breakfast/’ 

She stood up, but she did not go. Instead she made 
patterns with one small finger on the table. 

“I haven’t heard from Don,” she said at length. 

“I’m not surprised,” answered Lady Condor, dryly. 
She was feeling uncommonly bad about Don. 

“I think he might have written,” protested Ishtar, still 
intent on making interlaced circles on the table. “I don’t 
even know where he is. Do—do you think he minds 
very much, Grannie ? Richard was so cross with me that 
I am afraid he does. And it will be perfectly hateful if 
he isn’t going to be friends any more, like we’ve always 
been.” 

Lady Condor looked at her shrewdly. “I suppose 
you’re sure it is Copper Top that you want?” she asked. 

“Why yes, Grannie. You don’t suppose I’ve worried 
you all like this if it wasn’t?” Ishtar answered simply. 
“It’s funny, though, how things happen. I think I did 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


433 


mean to marry Don. I’m sure I did. I never thought of 
Copper Top—not that way. You know, somehow, he’s 
not like that. And then I went to the Little House after 
the measles, and he came down from Cambridge two 
weeks before he ought to have, and it just happened. It 
was as if it had to happen. I love Don. He’s ever so 
great a dear, and I’d be safe and happy with him, I know. 
But with Copper Top—oh Grannie,” her eyes shone, her 
face flushed in its softly radiant way, “it’s like living in 
a wonder world, and you don’t quite know what you’ll 
see next, or where you’ll be the next minute! Perhaps 
snuggling in the heart of a daisy, or perhaps singing in a 
star! You won’t forget-” 

She laughed, kissed her hand from the doorway, and 
went. 

Lady Condor called her maid and ordered fresh coffee 
hot and strong. 

She shook her head over it. “What a pity! What a 
terrible pity!” she said to herself, and wished she had 
not written that voluminous and encouraging letter to 
Don that she had sent to post only last evening. 


CHAPTER X 


Ishtar had the next week-end at the Castle. It rained 
most of the time. Fortunately, in Lady Hawkhurst’s 
opinion. Unfortunately, also in her opinion, it did not 
prevent Ishtar from spending every and all day up at the 
Little House and returning in the best of spirits. 

She declared that she loved the country in wet weather, 
and Lady Hawkhurst consoled herself by not believing it. 
Perhaps there was an unconscious touch of revenge in the 
headache she had on the Saturday, which obliged Ishtar 
to make the fourth at bridge. 

But it was true enough. Ishtar loved the hours she 
spent with Copper Top in front of the log fire while the 
healing flood murmured outside and the scent of wet 
woods and meadows mingled with the fragrance of the 
burning pine-wood. 

“I shan’t mind one bit living always in the country,” 
she assured Copper Top in the last hours of the Sunday 
afternoon. She was curled up in one of the big chairs, 
watching him as he sat in his favourite attitude on the 
hearth. 

“No,” he half queried, half agreed. “But you can 
always go and stay in town whenever you want to,” he 
added. 

“Wouldn’t you mind?” 

“No,” he answered. “Why should I?” 

“But—but it will take me away from you.” 


434 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


435 


“Does that matter if you want to go?” 

“I thought that perhaps—perhaps you wouldn’t want 
me to want to go.” 

“That would be silly,” said Copper Top. 

Ishtar was conscious of one of the little twinges of 
disappointment she so often felt on this subject, but she 
never could make up her mind to leave it alone. She was 
sure he cared for her—of course he did, and in a very 
wonderful way. Not like other men. But of course he 

was not like- A thought struck her sharply. Did she 

wish he was more like them—in the way he wanted her? 
He let her go or stay so lightly always. Not as if he 
really cared one way or the other. 

She pulled the thought up and slipped down on to the 
hearth beside him, tucked her shoulder in front of his 
and ran her hand down his forearm until their palms met. 
It was so she loved to cling to him. So she felt most 
fully the vital strength of him in touch with her. She 
looked up into his face. In the many-hued flickering light 
it had that strange appearance as if made of translucent 
gold. 

“What are you thinking of, beloved?” she said. 

“Fire,” he answered dreamily. “It’s such a glorious 
thing.” 

“I’m rather afraid of it I think. There’s something so 
terrible about fire—so merciless.” 

Copper Top smiled. “It is the only one of the elements 
that you cannot defile or pollute. It destroys impurity 
and remains unsoiled. It is of itself, untouchable. It is 
a perfect thing.” 

“Do you see Fire Weavers, Copper Top?” 

“Not often, and not for a very long time. Not since 
I grew up, I don’t think. They are very great beings.” 

“Greater than the Sun Weavers?” 


436 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


‘‘I do not know. I do not know very much. It is 
better to have vision than to ask questions, my Star.” 

“I did see the figures in the glade. They were beauti¬ 
ful. They had wonderful hair like spun silk. They 
looked as if they were bathing themselves in the sunshine 
between the rains. What were they ?” 

“What the Greeks used to call Dryads, I think-” 

“Wood Nymphs?” 

“That’s as good a name as any. They belong to the 
woods.” 

“That book I sent you—it is full of the woods—I 
thought you would love it-” 

“Fiona McLeod’s? The words are good. They sing. 
But it is a bad book. It is too full of Sorrow. I never 
can make out why you are all so pleased with sorrowful 
things—in the abstract of course I mean, you don’t like 
them really.” 

Copper Top looked into the fire with puzzled eyes. 

“Sorrow is not beautiful, or wonderful, or desirable, 
what is the good of pretending it is? I suppose it’s your 
way of making the best of it. But I think sorrow is more 
like death than what you call death. It crushes life out, 
makes it ugly.” He shivered a little. “But you like 
ugly things.” 

“Oh, darling, do we ?” 

“The play we went to—” He shivered again. 
“The man who would do anything for money, and who 
liked to torture. He tortured a poor wretched little clerk 
until he went mad and murdered him. It was an awful 
scene when he murdered him. But everybody clapped 
and clapped, because the horror was well acted. And your 
Court of Law—the innocent man who was turned by 
fear into something that was no longer a man. And 
these are things that actually happen—I have read the 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


437 


papers since you told me to—and you like to see imita¬ 
tions of them—it is one of your amusements-” He 

stopped, then ended abruptly, “I can’t go back with you, 
Star.” 

Ishtar clung to him with both hands, clung to him. 
Then she lifted the palm against which her own rested, 
and touched it softly with her lips. She held them there 
for a moment. 

“No, I see,” she said. “I don’t want you to. And I 
will come down as often as I can, and soon the time 
will be over and spring will be again. Oh, Copper Top, 
I do love being here with you. I do love you.” 

He put his arms round her, lightly, closely. It was so 
rare a thing that she shivered with delight. And yet it 
was not her body that shivered. She had strangely lost 
consciousness of that. Some inner centre of being was 
smitten as by a keen wind, was bathed in an intense 
warmth, was consumed by a flame of radiance—inexpres¬ 
sible—beyond words, swift, exquisite, satisfying. 

So they sat for quite a long time, until the Professor 
wandered in absentmindedly and was detected while trying 
to beat a silent retreat. 

They brought him back and throned him in the big 
armchair. He sat radiating satisfaction and looked at 
them. They were good to look at. He thought of the 
children to be. 

“We must build on to the Little House,” he said. 

The idea delighted them. They began to build all sorts 
of rooms, all sorts of houses, in the air. It was the 
pleasantest game* And then, after they had built and 
built, they decided that the Little House, just as it was, 
was the best house of all. They didn’t want it altered, 
not a bit. They would tuck in a room where it wouldn’t 
be noticed, one big room, open to the sun and the wind, 


438 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


for Copper Top and Ishtar. And, after all, that did not 
need to be very big, because it would open out into the 
whole world. 

And all the time, in the Professor’s mind, the words 
kept ticking, “If only nothing happens to stop it. If only 
nothing happens.” 

Why was there no rite, swift and emphatic, which he 
could invoke, to marry them then and there, and no more 
nonsense about it. There ought to be. Of course there 
ought! 

He watched them away, across the meadows, where 
Running Water and King Edward kicked cheerful heels 
around them, and birds gathered above. It was the 
loveliest evening after the rain. Radiant with elusive 
colours, and scented past belief. And, he thought, there 
was an eight o’clock dinner of many courses at the Castle 
through which Ishtar must sit, and perhaps play bridge 
afterwards, as she had last evening, to make their fourth. 
Condor was ridiculous about his game of bridge—ridic¬ 
ulous. Men got like that- The Professor continued 

to grunt and mutter. Then he went on a slug hunt. It 
relieved his feelings. 

“You really won’t come to dinner?” asked Ishtar, as 
they went down the frost pathway. 

Copper Top shook his head. “Simply couldn’t stand it 
after this, I should be as stupid as a bat or as irritable 
as a cockchafer would be, if you took them in! It takes 
me both ways, and I never know which it will be.” 

He laughed, and held out an inviting hand to a wood- 
pigeon. The bird circled down into the shelter of his 
arm and crooned against his breast. 

“You—you don’t try and make me stay too,” said 
Ishtar, unable as usual to resist the feeling that prompted 
the question. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 439 

“But you know I never try to make people do any¬ 
thing.” 

“But suppose they ought to do it?” 

“How do I know what other people ought to do?” 
asked Copper Top. 

“Well then, if it’s something you’d like them to do 
very much? You’d like me to stay, wouldn’t you?” 

Copper Top frowned a little. He disliked discussions 
of this sort. He wished Star wouldn’t ask a lot of stupid 
questions like that. But of course people always did. 

“But that’s nothing to do with it, has it?” he said. 

Ishtar gave it up, but with a sigh. If only he were a 
little, just a little, like other men, she would have known 
better where she was. Or at least she thought she would. 
Don was always ready to decide and settle for her what 
she must or must not do. She thought Don would have 
decided that she must go back to dinner. But then he 
would have gone too. That was easy. But if it had been 
somewhere he hated going? Would he have persuaded 
her not to go, or would he have gone with her ? Anyway 
he would- 

Her train of thought stopped suddenly with her body. 
The stile into the road was surrounded by quite a large 
pool of water. The heavy rain, unable to get away 
quickly, had remained in the hollow at the foot of the hill. 

Copper Top shooed the pigeon away and Ishtar felt 
absurdly pleased. 

“It will be very muddy under that water,” he said, 
and picked her up in his arms. 

“Oh, Copper Top! I’m too heavy,” she laughed. 

He laughed too, that most delicious laugh of his, that 
was still so young. 

“I could carry you for miles and never feel it,” he 
said, and before he put her down in the dry road over the 



440 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


stile he gave her one kiss for the dimple in her cheek and 
one for her rose-red mouth, and two for her starry eyes. 

“When you come to me for good,” he whispered, “I 
will meet you just here, and I will carry you over the 
edge of the earth, under the moon, into the Perfect 
Hour.” 

The words sang in Ishtar’s heart all the way home, 
even all through dinner, even through the rubber of 
bridge, in which she revoked unashamed. They were still 
singing when her mother came in, the last thing, to say 
good night. And added to them were four other words: 
“he does love me, he does love me.” So she did not give 
herself time to get nervous. She sat up in bed quickly 
and looked at her mother standing placid and gracious 
in the long streak of moonlight from the window. 

“Mother,” she said. “Mother, I want to ask you. Do let 
me marry Copper Top now. I don’t want to wait like this. 
And I am quite sure—so there isn’t any need-” 

And then a dreadful thing happened. Suddenly, and 
without any warning, Lady Hawkhurst began to cry. 
Ishtar had never seen her cry before. Her mother had 
always moved through life serene, immaculate, irreproach¬ 
able ; untouched, it seemed, by time or trouble or regrets. 
It was like the breaking up of something unbreakable. 

Ishtar watched the tears rolling down her mother’s 
cheeks, making lines in the soft down of powder upon her 
still lovely skin, with something little short of terror. 
When she spoke the broken sound in her beautiful voice 
hurt Ishtar as nothing had ever hurt her before. 

“I—I—don’t know why these things happen to me,” 
Lady Hawkhurst said. “I have done my b-best to bring 
you up well. You have a good father—you c-come of 
the best blood in England on both sides of the family. 
And my son—m-my eldest son-” 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


441 


Her voice broke altogether and she sobbed uncontrol¬ 
lably for a few moments. 

“Don't, mother—oh, mother, please-” 

“My eldest son is a Labour Candidate,” Lady Hawk- 
hurst, recovering herself, went on inexorably. “When I 
was a girl no Liberal even was a gentleman. And now 
my only d-daughter is determined to marry a man without 
name or family.” She sobbed again. “You cannot even 
wait the decent time every girl is accustomed to wait. 
That is all we have asked. And you were such dear little 

children—such d-dear-” 

Ishtar could not bear any more. The whole thing was 
a horror. It was almost indecent that she should see her 
mother crying like this, hear her talking like this. 

She crept out of bed and put her arms round her. 

“I will wait, mother,” she said. “Don’t cry. Please 
don’t cry. I can’t bear it. I will wait as long as you like.” 




CHAPTER XI 


The Family got back to London to find a Political 
Crisis of the first magnitude imminent. The war clouds 
in the near East had assumed such menacing proportions 
that it seemed impossible they would not, at last, burst 
into activity. A Vote of Confidence was to be moved 
in the House the next day. The whole political world 
was like a big ants’ nest turned up by a ruthless spade. 
The number of parties bewildered the plain man in the 
street. There were not only Conservatives and Liberals 
and Labour, there were ramifications of each. New 
parties broke off with amazing rapidity and with kaleido¬ 
scopic changes. Ishtar found running through her mind, 
quite absurdly, the old nonsense words, “And there were 
the Jobbilillies and the Piccaninnies and the Garryullies 
and the Great Panjandrum with the Little Round Button 
on Top.” But she kept this to herself, for it was, to 
her elders, a much too vitally important matter to be 
treated with anything approaching levity. They were 
“profoundly convinced” that only the return of their 
Party to Power could save the country from irretrievable 
disaster, avert imminent war, and restore peace and pros¬ 
perity. They were ready and willing, and they felt, 
competent, to solve questions that had vexed civilisations 
since Man began. That every other Party thought the 
same of itself only struck them as grotesque. Ifow 
could they? It was so plainly, to every intelligent per¬ 
son, absurd. Only Lord Condor’s eyes smiled under their 


442 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 443 

heavy lids when he heard this talk. A smile that hid a 
worried mind. 

“Just as well you should all think as you do, Paddy,” 
he said to his wife. “Honestly, I think we’re the best 
of the choice myself. But how we are going to cope 
with the mess, God knows. It wants a Hercules, and 
we haven’t got one.” 

Immediately on his return to London he was sounded 
as to his willingness to take office again as Foreign Secre¬ 
tary in the event of Lord Northallerton being sent for. 

“Paddy,” he said to Lady Condor, “I’d give—I don’t 
know what I wouldn’t give—to refuse.” 

They were sitting in his library, side by side, and she 
laid a gentle hand that trembled a little on his, but she 
said nothing, not one single word, while he talked the 
thing out, half to her, half to himself, with silences in 
between. Then he heaved himself out of his chair with 
a groan. 

“You would like me to hold office again,” he said, 
looking down at her kindly. It was an assertion, not a 
question. 

“I believe in you,” she answered. 

Lord Condor padded across the room and looked out 
of the window for a few moments. At the familiar 
scene, the plane 'tree!*, the deserted gardens, the big iron 
gates. A taxi had drawn up at the door— He came 
back to his wife. 

“There was one thing the war burnt into me,” he 
said. “And that is that the end does not justify the 
means.” 

Lady Condor waited. 

“There is no place in politics for a man who holds 
that belief.” 

“I am not sure, you know,” answered Lady Condor, 


444 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


after another pause, rubbing her nose thoughtfully with 
her pince-nez, “that there is a place anywhere, in this 
world, for people who hold that—what did you say it 
was, dear?—a view, or a belief? It always seems crop¬ 
ping up too—even this trouble about poor little Ishtar 
—but you can’t let some ends happen, can you?—not 
without trying to stop them—and yet the means are 
often so very unjustifiable—why is it? But where were 
we? Oh, yes! We always seem sitting on a War Vol¬ 
cano now, and I do think, Tony, if you are a Foreign 
Secretary it will be less likely to erupt—or whatever it is 
—than if anyone else is. You see, our present man—a 
dear—quite attractive though of no birth—is always 
doing some little thing—just from want of knowing bet¬ 
ter—that does more harm than a really big mistake—you 
know what I mean-” 

“You’re damnably right, Paddy,” said Lord Condor, 
staring down at her. “If one’s duty were only clear 
it would be so much simpler,” he added after a pause. 

Lady Condor looked up at him and her eyes filled 
slowly with tears. 

“I could not bear another war,” she said. 

And in both their minds came the vision of a gay 
young face, a pair of fearless eyes. A remembered flash 
of eager life and laughter. 

“I must be off,” said Lord Condor with extreme sud¬ 
denness. “I’m lunching with Northallerton. Fleet and 
Acroyd will be there. We may settle something.” 

He stooped and kissed her, rather an unusual thing, 
and she watched him pad his ponderous way all down 
the long room without moving. 

“What is Father going to do?” asked Lord Hawk- 
hurst at lunch when the servants had gone. 

“He has not decided,” answered Lady Condor. “It’s 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 445 

very hard on him, you know. He felt that he had re¬ 
tired for good.” 

“Well, if he refuses and Jinks-Webster goes to the 
F.O. we may as well prepare for the next war at once,” 
exclaimed Lord Hawkhurst, and swallowed his coffee 
with violence. 

“I don’t believe you will get the people to fight again,” 
said his wife. 

“Nonsense! The people have got to fight if war is 
declared,” said Lord Hawkhurst irritably. “Do you 
suppose John and Richard, for instance, wouldn’t volun¬ 
teer at once ? Why they couldn’t do anything else, even 
if they wanted to. And they wouldn’t want to, and 
we should be horrified if they did. It’s no good talking 
like that.” 

Ishtar listened with a face that had suddenly gone 
white. Her throat went dry. Whatever happened, or 
whatever anyone thought, Copper Top would not fight. 
And would she be horrified if he didn’t? Would she 
be ashamed? Would— She must talk to Don about it. 

And then she remembered that possibly she would not 
be able to talk to Don about things any more. Certainly 
not about Copper Top. And they had always consulted 
together concerning troublesome matters that might 
affect his welfare. Perhaps Don hated Copper Top now 

- He must be angry, because he had not answered 

her letter, or taken any notice- He might have 

written just to let her know- 

Don would fight. Of course they would all fight. 

Only Copper Top- And yet he was less afraid of 

things than anyone. He wasn’t afraid of anything. 
And he wouldn’t be afraid to fight. But he would look 
upon it as one of the curious madnesses from which 
people suffered and he would not have anything to do 





446 THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 

with it. And people would say he was a coward. People 

- She would ask Cousin James- He might be 

forced to go—Copper Top—it was too horrible. And 
yet men had to fight- 

It was the old problem of her childhood, back again 
in another form. Why did things always come back? 
As if one were going round in a circle and not getting 
anywhere. 

Copper Top’s world receded into an immense distance, 
into the impossible, while she sat and listened to men 
and women who talked with anxious faces of War. And 
this was the real world- 

That evening Lady Condor gave one of her celebrated 
little dinners. With the exception of the ladies of the 
house they were men’s parties and after dinner more men 
dropped in from both the Houses and drank the admir¬ 
able coffee that Lady Hawkhurst always made herself, 
and Lord Condor’s famous brandy over two hundred 
years in bottles and of a surpassing mellowness. 

Ishtar enjoyed these evenings. To-night it was more 
than usually interesting. Everyone was brimming over 
with excitement. The fall of the Government, the ap¬ 
pointment of new Ministers, the imminent election, she 
heard all these things discussed by the men who were 
actually working the great machine of party politics. It 
was like sitting at the hub and seeing what moved the 
wheels round. And nobody seemed to think there would 
be war if only a Conservative Government were in 
power. She did not quite understand why this was so, 
but they all seemed comfortably sure of it. 

“It all seems so easy, when you talk about it,” she 
said to a very notable personage indeed, who was al¬ 
ways particularly nice to her. 

“Ah well, don’t forget it’s our business to talk like 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


447 


that,” he answered smiling. Then he looked across the 
room and exclaimed, “Hullo! There’s young Mac- 
Clean just arrived. Well, I suppose I’ll be turned out 
now?” 

He smiled more broadly and with very great kindness, 
looking down at her, and Ishtar blushed with an intensity 
that was painful. (So Don was back! And he had not 
let her know-) 

“No,” she stammered. “No.” 

“No!” echoed the great man. (Heavens, what a 
beautiful child it was.) “Then I’m sorry. I like that 
boy. He’s the sort it’s good to have at your back in 
a fight.” 

And he embarked upon a somewhat lengthy anecdote 
about Don’s father, while she wondered apprehensively 
what Don would be like to her now. If only he had 
answered her letter, or let her know he was coming. Sup¬ 
pose she became the colour of beet-root again. If they 
had met alone for the first time after—it would have 

been so much easier- She wished he would come at 

once so that she could get it over. 

And it was momentarily becoming plainer that Don 
did not mean, as of old, to come at once. He was al¬ 
lowing himself to be caught by one little group after 
the other all of whom had a friendly word for him. 
Now Richard had caught him. They were having a 
great joke over something. It didn’t look as if he had 
minded—minded anything—one bit. His face bore its 
usual serene good-humoured expression. Now they 

were in fits of laughter- What had she expected? 

Why had she worried herself about him? What a little 
fool she had been. 

Her companion finished his anecdote and was swept 
by Lady Condor into the flood of her conversation from 





44 » 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


a neighbouring sofa where she was enthroned. Ishtar 
was thankful for the respite. She felt that if Don did 
not come and speak to her soon she could not bear it. 
If he did not mean to be friends she must know at once. 
Every nerve in her body became on edge as she watched 
his aggravatingly slow progress down the long room. 
Her indignation grew. It was perfectly horrid of 
him. 

At last, it seemed an hour though it was in reality 
about three minutes, he looked in her direction. Across 
the shifting crowd their eyes met and she managed with 
an effort what she hoped was a quite careless nod and 
smile. 

He came to her then, and they shook hands stiffly, like 
two strangers. 

“When did you get down?” she asked. 

“Last night. I rang Aunt Marion up.” 

“She never told me.” Ishtar looked at her grand¬ 
mother resentfully. Instinctively they had drawn back 
behind the shelter of her great sofa. “And you never 
wrote, Don. I think—I do think you might have an¬ 
swered my letter.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Don stiffly. “It didn’t seem any 
good saying the usual things. They wouldn’t have been 
true.” 

Then Ishtar’s poor little wall of offence broke down. 
“Oh, Don dear, you’re not going to be nasty, are you? 
I did hope you wouldn’t mind very much.” 

Don laughed. The sort of laugh that hurts. “I’m 
afraid it isn’t much good hoping that,” he said. “Look 
here, dear, I don’t want to be nasty, God knows, but I 
didn’t know what it would be like to see you again and 
feel how different everything is-” 

He choked on his words and stopped. 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 449 
“Don, I can’t bear it if we’re not going to be friends 


any more- 

“I’m not your friend. I’m your lover. And I’ll be 
your lover until the day you marry another man, and 
after that I’ll never see you again as long as I live.’’ 

He turned from her, and went away without saying 
good-bye to anyone, out into the night. Blindly he 
walked and walked, following street after street, all alike 
they seemed to him, rows and rows of meaningless houses, 
miles and miles of grey pavement. A strange, weird, 
endless place that went on for ever and ever. And as 
he went he kicked and tore himself to pieces. He had 
come back to fight for her, and all he had done was to 

behave like a brute and a fool—a brute and a fool- 

The words jingled in his brain to the accompaniment of 
the ring of his feet on the pavement, while back in the 
house he had left Ishtar sobbed herself to sleep. 

She awoke the next morning feeling thoroughly in¬ 
jured. Her main supports in life seemed gone. Her 
grandmother had failed her. Don was angry and hurt. 
They would not let her go down to the Little House 
to Copper Top and Cousin James. She was miserable, 
and there was no one to turn to. 

She ordered breakfast in her own little sitting-room 
and when it came she could not eat it. 

Then the telephone bell rang, and in a moment she 
knew it must be Don. She would be polite and stiff. 

“Yes,” she said, and did not know how eager her 
voice was. “Yes.” 

“Ishtar,” came Don’s voice, “is that you? Thank 
God!” The anxious young voice broke a little. “I just 
wanted to ask you to forgive me for last night and— 
and for not writing you know-” 





450 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


She could not answer. She knew there would be tears 
in her voice. Her dignity struggled with her feelings. 

“Are you there?” came desperately from the other 
end of the telephone. 

“Yes.” 

“You must forgive me, Izzy. I’ve been kicking my¬ 
self round London all night for a brute and a fool. F 11 
be your friend or any other damned thing you want. I’d 
be cut into bits for you dear-” 

Oh, this was better! This was much better. The 
tears were still in her voice, they were in her eyes now, 
but it didn’t matter. 

“Won’t you come round?” she asked. “I—I’m not 
going out this morning.” 

“Can I come now? Yes. All right. It’s awfully 
good of you-” 

She hadn’t meant to tell him, but somehow she did. 

“I cried myself to sleep last night, Don.” 

Then she put the receiver back in a hurry before he 
could answer, and drew a long breath of relief while 
she collected her thoughts together. 

It was funny how the world could feel quite a different 
place all in a minute. She must keep Don as a friend 
—why they had always been friends. He could not 
carry her over the edge of the earth under the moon into 
fairyland as Copper Top could, but his was such a dear 
safe strong hand to hold. He understood all about this 
particular world of hers and made things easy for her 
in a way Copper Top never would. Oh, she wanted 
them both! Was there no life that included them? 

Surely there must be- If she took the great step 

forward into the almost unknown wonder world that 
marriage with Copper Top opened to her, she must feel 
that behind her stood the solid safety and certainty of 





THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


45i 


Don MacClean’s friendship. And of course he would 
give it her—he had never failed her yet—and he and 
Copper Top had loved each other- 

So she thought while she waited for him, curled up 
in a happy bundle on the sofa. She had not realised 
before now how much she had missed him. When you 
were in Copper Top’s world you seemed to forget every^ 
thing else. 

Then the door opened and Don came in. The night 
had left its marks on him, such as her child’s cry to 
sleep had failed to leave on her. His face had a curious 
battered look, the corners of his mouth quivered. His 
eyes met hers anxiously, and then—well it is a thing that 
happens, and will happen, between men and women in 
highly strung moments—he had got her in his arms 
before either of them knew it, fiercely and possessively, 
yet with an immense and enveloping tenderness. 

There was nothing to be done. For the moment they 
were as one flesh with one current of blood flowing in 
both their veins. Thought was swallowed up in feeling. 
Purely material but none the less wonderful for that. 
Ishtar hardly realised that he was kissing her, madly 
but reverently, with an ungovernable passion that yet 
was governed by an indescribable worship. She felt the 
moment as a wonderful whole, and it was as much as she 
could feel. She returned nothing. She simply absorbed 
his passion, lying unresisting in his arms. When he 
loosed her, he was as white as a sheet and shaking in 
every limb, but she stayed just where he had put her 
down, her eyes on his, her lips apart, panting. 

“I ought to be shot, Izzy,” he said at last, very simply. 

She moved away from him then. She began to think 
again. She was engaged to Copper Top and she had let 
another man kiss her. Kiss her like that. She wasn’t 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


45 2 

safe any more with Don. It was a dreadful thing he had 

done- And she had not tried to stop him—she had 

not thought of stopping him—she—she had liked it- 

Don was speaking again, and she stood there like a 
troubled child, listening, but she did not know what he 
was saying. An overwhelming thought had come to her. 

“So it’s like that?” she said. 

“You didn’t know?” 

She shook her head. “No. Not like that.” And 
still she looked like a troubled child who is ashamed. 

“Well, it’s like that. That and more,” said Don 
slowly. “I’d better go away, Izzy. It’s the only thing 
—I can’t go on being friends—you see that now. But 
I’ll come back when I can stand it. I’ll come back and 
fight for you—until it’s too late to fight. Only you need 
not be afraid I’ll behave like I did just now—unless-” 

There was a pause while they looked at each other, 
wide-eyed and breathless. 

“Izzy.” Don took a step towards her. There was a 
desperate earnestness in his strong young voice. “Are 
you quite sure?” 

She put out her hands to him with a cry. “Oh, I want 
you both. I have always wanted you both. Is there no 
way-” 

“No,” said Don sternly, “there is no way. Don’t you 
know that now?” 

That Don should speak so roughly to her seemed the 
most impossible thing of all that had happened. He had 
never spoken roughly to her before in.all their lives, even 
when they were small children. Where was the old Don, 
and what was this she had found in his place? And yet 
—and yet- 

“Don’t be angry with me,” she said. 

“I’m not angry,” protested poor Don. “It’s you that 







THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


453 

have the right to be angry with me. Only I wish you 
would understand-” 

Ishtar regarded him for a moment in silence, and the 
blood moved with an ever richer radiance in her face. 
Then she spoke slowly as one who catches a new thought. 

“Yes, I think I do understand,” she said. “I think I 

understood just now when you-” she hesitated, then 

went on bravely, “when you kissed me. But I did not 
know for a minute—I’ve been dreadfully stupid, Don. I 
must have hurt you so much.” 

And then she did a very sweet and gracious thing. She 
went to him and took his hand and kissed the palm of it. 
It had been their childhood’s form of apology, being 
easier than saying you were sorry. 

After that Don went away, and she sat alone for a 
long time. Hardly thinking, only conscious, vaguely and 
elusively, of something that she could not hold securely 
for a moment. 

Her body felt like one great rose of flame. It was a 
wonderful feeling. 




CHAPTER XII 


The political crisis ran its appointed course, and the 
men who had floundered in it out of their depth, wrig¬ 
gling their way through the intricate mazes of diplomacy, 
perverting or withholding the truth when it seemed to 
them necessary, justifying the same to their conscience 
by the expediency of the hour, shook themselves like 
dogs coming out of dirty water and took stock of the 
results achieved. 

The Government had fallen. A new Prime Minister 
was promising Peace and Prosperity. As usual, every 
vexed question was to be settled, though exactly how 
did not appear. There was to be a General Election in 
November, and each Party (they increased in number 
with every passing week), was assuring the electorate 
that nothing but their return to power could save the 
country from disasters of every possible and impossible 
description. 

A Conservative Government was in at the moment, and 
it seemed highly probable that they would gain a sweep¬ 
ing majority at the polls. The Labour Party had issued 
a Manifesto of such a determined and atrocious character 
that Lady Condor exclaimed, “They are delivered into 
our hands.” The Liberal Party was, at the moment, 
what is called in political circles “utterly discredited.” 
The Ramifications were too small, and squabbling too 
violently with each other, to present any danger. Lord 
454 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


455 


Condor was Foreign Secretary. The war cloud had, 
temporarily at any rate, dispersed, largely owing, so his 
family could not help thinking, to his appointment. Lord 
Hawkhurst had, in Fairbridge, what was still a perfectly 
safe seat. And Lady Condor talked and beamed and 
entertained with a delightful and amazing expansiveness. 

The crisis thus happily over, Ishtar’s love affairs 
emerged again into the Family consciousness. But Ishtar 
had retreated into a more than usually reserved shell. 
Even the little feelers put out by her grandmother failed 
to draw her forth. Don MacClean had returned to 
Storne, but on the other hand Ishtar had remained in 
London over the crisis week-end without protest. It 
was well on into July, and the first week in August they 
would all go to stay with Don as usual. Lady Condor 
and Lady Hawkhurst decided to leave well alone, though 
had they been less fully occupied with other matters the 
girl’s attitude might have struck them as one to cause 
anxiety. The pathetic quality of her beauty was more 
than usually apparent. She went about a great deal and 
acted like any other young girl enjoying her first season, 
but all the time she was fighting a hard and silent battle 
of the soul alone and unaided. 

All those to whom she was accustomed to turn for help 
and counsel were prejudiced in this matter, even if they 
could have understood her difficulties. All had their own 
particular axe to grind. She could not trust any of them. 
Worst of all she could no longer depend upon Don. In 
this, the most terrifying moment of her life, torn between 
two emotions, neither of which she understood, unable 
even to fathom what she really wanted, she stood abso¬ 
lutely alone. 

Since her last interview with Don she had been 
conscious of an unrest, of a longing, undefinable yet 


456 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


all-embracing, that was new to her, and that burnt within 
her like some strange fever. Yet the vision of the glori¬ 
ous freedom that belonged to Copper Top’s world, that 
world into which, through him, she had indeed begun 
to find access, drew her still as surely as ever, and 
with an equally strong desire. Between the two she 
was rent in pieces; she could not satisfy both and she did 
not know which was the greater. 

In the daytime the numerous parties and functions 
served as an opiate, but every night the combatants were 
lying in wait for her, ready to start again, and in some 
dim region of consciousness that lay between the two, 
she was afraid, terribly afraid. 

Sometimes she would make up her mind to go down 
to the Little House and tell Copper Top of the travail of 
mind and body in which she laboured. But always she 
knew that he would decide nothing for her. The words 
he had said came back to her again and again. 

“I cannot hold you. I cannot keep you. You must 
come of yourself and stay of yourself. There is no other 
way.” 

Besides—how could she tell him-? How could she 

tell him of that wild embrace which she had not resisted 
—had not wanted to resist—and of which she was now 
so hideously ashamed? 

Also she knew that if she went there again it would 
have to be to stay. It would be making her decision 
for good. And she could not face it. Fear held her— 
a deeper fear than that of hurting all these dear people 
whom she loved and who loved her. For through these 
days she was becoming more and more aware, that if 
she went so, if she really slipped through into Copper 
Top’s world, she could never come back to her own. 
Never. Never. It would be shutting out for ever all the 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


457, 


future that had been laid for her in the past through long 
generations, foregoing everything that precept and 
example had taught her a woman should look for in life. 
It would be shutting out the warm comfortable safety, 
the protection so dear to her, all that the warm nursery 
had stood for in her childhood, in contrast to the won¬ 
derful, yet terrifying, freedom of the forest. 

And above all it would be giving up Don—not the old 
Don—but the new Don- 

There were times while she stood by her window in 
the moonlight and watched adventurous stars peeping 
at her among the chimney-tops, when the urge to Copper 
Top became so strong that she almost made up her mind 
to go. For an amazing moment all the wild white 
wonder of his Free World would become visible to the 
eyes of her soul. She would surely go. And then she 
would know, just as surely, that she could not give Don 
up. She could not part with this strange longing, sweet 
and cruel at once, that burnt her like a fever. She was 
ashamed of it. She tried to stifle it, to refuse it admit¬ 
tance; but there were times when it flared up and con¬ 
sumed her body and soul, and she knew that she could 
not give it up—she could not give it up- 

And she would creep away from the stars to rock to 
and fro in a little crouched heap with her face hidden 
between her hands. 

“I love them both,” she cried to herself. “I love 
them both. I can’t give either of them up. I can’t— 
I can’t!” 

“The child isn’t looking well, you know,” said Lady 
Condor to her daughter-in-law, quite suddenly one morn¬ 
ing, when Lady Hawkhurst had disturbed her at the 
breakfast hour with some little bit of political news that 
justified the intrusion. 




45§ 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


The remark, timed as Lady Condor’s so often were 
without connection to the matter in hand, caused Lady 
Hawkhurst to look vaguely round the room and repeat, 
“The child?” 

“Ishtar I mean. She has had a queer look about her 
the last few days. A sort of strained look—as if she 
were holding something down-” 

“These engagements that are not engagements are 
very bad things for a girl,” said Lady Hawkhurst. “I 
was always against it really, as you know, dear. We 
ought to have refused our consent absolutely, and sent 
Ishtar abroad—or something. Though of course in the 
middle of her first season it would have been very an¬ 
noying-” 

“Nonsense, my dear,” interrupted Lady Condor 
rather sharply. “Fifty years ago you could have sent 
her away, or locked her up, or married her to somebody 
else—or was that a hundred years ago? Time does go 
so quickly; why, even I remember wearing a bustle— 
such a curious fashion—the Fenwick girls made theirs 
out of newspaper—they were terribly hard up always— 
and Cora dropped hers running to catch a train—at 
Waterloo station I think it was—and some man would 
pick it up and follow her with it, poor thing, and why 
anyone should ever have thought of accentuating—but 
where were we? Oh, yes. The child! I haven’t had 
time to really think about anything until last night—but 
at the Milchesters—she looked like some sort of lovely 
ghost—if ghosts can be lovely when everyone is so afraid 
of them—perhaps it isn’t what I mean—but you know. 
And I began to think back. I was talking to that dread¬ 
ful man—what is the title they’ve given him—he made 

his money in a Circus—or was it Circular Tours-? 

Something that goes round, I know. And he had to pay 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


459 


£50,000 for his peerage. He thought I was asleep, so 
I was able to have a good think, and I tracked it down 
to that time when Don came, just for two days, you 
remember. It’s ever since then. She has never come 
in to have any of our little talks. Don never had a talk 
with me either—something happened then-” 

“Yes?” interrogated Lady Hawkhurst weakly, her 
slow-moving brain struggling to separate the grain from 
the chaff in this long discourse. 

Even while she struggled Lady Condor completed her 
bewilderment by adding, “I really do want a com¬ 
plete rest after all the anxiety we have been going 
through.” 

“I am sure you do, dear,” she answered. “Fortun¬ 
ately it is only two weeks and three days, I was adding 
up this morning, before we go to Scotland. I shall be 
glad of the change myself. It has been a trying season,” 
she added, and sighed. 

Lady Condor’s eyes twinkled. She loved to spring 
surprises on her daughter-in-law. 

“I propose to go at once—that is to say, on Friday,” 
she announced. 

“On Friday!” Lady Hawkhurst gasped. “But—but 
there is-” 

“No! No!” Lady Condor waved two protesting 
hands. “Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know. I mean 
to go whatever there is!” 

And she sat and enjoyed herself while Lady Hawk¬ 
hurst was evidently running over in her startled mind all 
the important engagements which she thus lightly pro¬ 
posed to break. 

“I will take Ishtar with me, if you can spare her,” she 
said at length, and bubbled over into one of her delight¬ 
ful fits of laughter. 




460 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


Light began to dawn upon Lady Hawkhurst. 

“Oh!” she said. And then “Oh!” again. “I see- 

Then you think-” 

“No, I don’t think. I get so dreadfully muddled when 
I think. Most people do, you know—only they won’t 
believe it. I’m acting on an inspiration, my dear. If I 
began to think it would evaporate—and then perhaps 
I shouldn’t go—I should begin to think of dear darling 
Copper Top—and whether I was playing cricket—though 
why cricket more than any other game?—why not foot¬ 
ball? But where was I? Oh, yes! Thinking always 
makes me stupid—and I am not naturally stupid—no. So 
long as I don’t think I can be quite clever-” 

She rose voluminously among her laces and ribands, 
scattering opened letters and envelopes around her, 
and Lady Hawkhurst kissed her warmly on both 
cheeks. 

“You are the dearest and cleverest woman in the 
world,” she said. For she had at last arrived at what 
Lady Condor had been talking about. 

“But, dear Connie, I am not at all sure that I am 
doing right--” 

“I am!” said Lady Hawkhurst, with a fervour of 
conviction that left nothing to be desired. 

There are times when we feel that if we remove our 
physical bodies to another, and especially a distant place, 
that it will also shift our emotions into some possibly 
more amenable condition, so curiously do we get things 
muddled up in our ignorance. It was probably some 
such feeling, only vaguely understood, that prompted 
Ishtar to seize with eagerness the suggestion that she 
should go with Lady Condor. Also it seemed an easier 
thing to meet Don than to meet Copper Top, and life 
without either of them had become unthinkable. 






THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


461 


The rush and bustle of the hurried departure was, too, 
in a way, a relief. Before she had time to change her 
mind, or, as Lady Condor would have described it, get 
muddled, she was lying in one of the first-class sleeping 
compartments of the night train to Callender, and fell 
asleep almost at once from sheer exhaustion. 

The clank of the train remained with her, clanking, 
clanking, steadily, steadily, until gradually it became the 
throb of a great Ocean Liner out at sea. It carried her 
on and on, endlessly, for ever and ever. It was never 
going to stop, never, never. 

And then it did stop, and she was in some great strange 
country all by herself. She was thousands of miles away 
—thousands and thousands of miles—across sea and wind 
—across space and time—away from everything and 
everybody. And she had done it herself—of her own free 
will and accord—in some strange time of madness that 
she did not remember—yet she had done it. And she 
could not get back—not for thousands of years—across 
sea and wind—across time and space. She cried and 
cried in an agony of despair and desolation and terror, 
and there was no answer anywhere in all the wide awful 
world. She cried and cried, and it went on for ever and 
ever. It was never going to stop—never- 

And then the clank, clank, of the train began again, 
and she woke up to find her face drenched with tears, 
and the sunlight glancing coming and going through the 
slit of the blind over the little window beside her bed. 

She sprang up and drew the blind and flung the window 
wide. Outside the great hills of Scotland slept in their 
crowns of mist. 

Don was not at the station to meet them, and Lady 
Condor felt pardonably annoyed. They were giving him 
every chance, and he was throwing them—literally 



462 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


throwing them away. He had always met them before, 
and now, just when it was so important—it was most ex¬ 
traordinary. And she had no one to whom she could 
relieve her feelings. Ishtar was looking more like a 
ghost—or whatever it was—than ever. Really, if it 
went on she might even lose her looks. 

Lady Condor was certainly very tired. She not only 
felt depressed, she actually felt irritable. 

The car raced along above the little blue lakes that lay 
like a chain of turquoise in the valley. Silvery streams 
flashed and sparkled among grey stones. All around the 
heather glowed, and scented the keen air. The big gates 
of Storne swung open and they passed in and on through 
fir-woods, through stretches of bracken and heatherland, 
through green sward spaces where mighty beech trees 
kept royal state. 

It was a glorious place. 

The old grey house stood high, and alone. No tree 
or bush or flower invaded its grim solitude. Four¬ 
square to all the winds, surrounded only by grey sweeps of 
pebble and close-clipped turf, yet it welcomed them right 
graciously in the sunshine, as it had, in its time, wel¬ 
comed many a royal monarch. 

And then Lady Condor forgave Don. She more than 
forgave, she acclaimed. For Don waited in the huge 
stone doorway as the MacClean of MacClean—waited as 
his ancestors had waited before him, to receive their kings 
and their brides. 

She retired thankfully to her bedroom and the minis¬ 
trations of her maid, congratulated herself upon her 
tactics, and made a most excellent breakfast. If she 
had had any misgivings they vanished like the mist 
wreaths on the hill. 

She dropped into a peaceful slumber. Poor dear 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


463 


Connie—yes—a rabbit hutch in a wood—most upsetting 
—poor dear—what a mercy. So she drifted into well 
earned oblivion. 

Ishtar and Don had breakfast together in the small 
dining-room, pleasantly full of sunshine and sweet with 
the scent of a bowl of magnificent roses. For Storne 
had a great and justly celebrated garden at a respectful 
distance from the house, walled and gated against rabbit 
and deer. 

And Don was the old comfortable matter-of-fact be¬ 
loved Don whom she had always turned to and depended 
on. Only there was something added, something ex¬ 
quisitely pleasant, that touched reverence, in his care of 
her. She began to recover her equanimity—began to 
feel the foundations of her world safe beneath her feet 
once more. 

“I love you in your full canonicals,” she said, her eyes 
able to smile naturally and comfortably at him across the 
table. “It’s a lovely dress. I do think it was nice of 
you to put it on for us.” 

“You,” corrected Don calmly. 

He did not add that it was so the MacClean had always 
honoured his bride as well as his king, but there was a 
glint in his eye which caused Ishtar to return hers to her 
plate and stir the cream into her porridge with rather 
elaborate care. Then she collected what courage the 
past two weeks had left her. 

“Don,” she said. “Do you think you could be my 
friend again, just like you’ve always been, for a little 
while? Because I’ve got things into a muddle somehow, 
and I’m trying to straighten them out.” 

She looked him bravely in the face, but her under¬ 
lip gave its little quiver, and it hurt him to the 
heart. 


464 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Why of course I will, Izzy,” he said, almost tumbling 
over his words in his hurry to assure her. “And look 
here, I think it is most awfully good of you to have 
come. I know I don’t deserve it. But you needn’t be 
afraid. I promise you.” 

He came round the table and took away her plate of 
porridge. 

“You’ve let it get cold and horrid,” he said in a very 
matter-of-fact voice. “I’ll get you some hot coffee, and 
how about some grilled chicken? And you’ve jolly well 
got to eat a good breakfast.” 

Thus was the old Don for the time being most reassur¬ 
ingly back again, and in the days that followed he kept 
to his role well and faithfully. If those banked-down 
fires of his flared fiercely under the surface, outwardly 
he gave no sign, save that of an ever present care and 
thought for her. Fighting for what seemed his very 
life, for all that mattered in heaven or earth, Don 
encompassed her silently and gently with a passion 
of protective possession such as few women could 
have resisted. 

And Ishtar ceased to struggle and drifted down the 
pleasant hours thankful for the respite. Perhaps things 
would straighten themselves out. She could not fight 
any more. Presently perhaps she would be able to talk 
to Don about it all and he would help her. 

Lady Condor, having played her master stroke, left 
well alone and took her really needed rest, though not 
with an altogether clear conscience. Yet if ever the end 
justified the means here was surely a case. Poor darling 
Copper Top! The more she felt she was treating him 
unfairly the more she liked him. But his very charms 
made him so wholly unsuitable as a husband. It was 
indeed almost impossible to consider him in the aspect 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 465 

of a married man in any proper sense of that responsible 
position. Also she felt it was purely a matter of con¬ 
jecture if he was really in love, properly understood, at 
all. As to picturing him as a family man—well—Lady 
Condor found it simply impossible. It was certain he 
would bring up children after no conceivable method yet 
tried among civilised peoples. And James would have a 
voice in the matter. Even Lady Condor’s imagination 
reeled. No, the whole thing was too plainly impossible 
to be thought of. It seemed incredible that with a girl 
of Ishtar’s type, brought up by poor dear Connie too, it 
should have to be thought of. If Copper Top were ever 
to marry it would have to be with some strange elemental 
creature like himself, picked up by somebody like dear 

James from- Where did Copper Top come from? 

Well, of course, that quite settled it, anyway. 

And Lady Condor’s conscience felt that it really had 
no need to prick. 

Don’s conscience, however, being of a less malleable 
order, made itself more continuously a nuisance as the 
days slipped by. Under the circumstances it might very 
easily have been quiescent, but it was not. After those 
first awful days Don’s warm affection for Copper Top 
had reasserted itself and a more reasonable attitude of 
mind taken the place of that rush of primitive rage and 
hatred. Don did not like to remember it now, indeed he 
was honestly ashamed of it. It is not very pleasant to 
know to what depths we can descend when our slowly 
built house of the spirit has to withstand the primeval 
forces of our nature hot from some hidden and unsus¬ 
pected furnace. So far are we, as yet, from that Great 
Achievement of which they shall be the understood and 
controlled driving power. 

All this being so, Don’s very sound and straight con- 



466 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


ception of friendship could not comfortably square itself 
with the present situation. Until Ishtar was actually 
married he meant to fight for her possession with 
every weapon he possessed, but, the feeling grew 
day by day, he did not like doing it behind Copper Top’s 
back. 

Of course, putting himself and all it meant to him on 
one side, it was unthinkable that Ishtar should marry 
Copper Top—of course it was. He had not the smallest 
shadow of doubt on that score, any more than her family 
had. But at the present moment Ishtar had promised 
herself to Copper Top, and Don knew it, and Copper Top 
trusted Ishtar. Undoubtedly, too, he trusted Don. And 
he had behaved jolly well. Had left Ishtar an extra¬ 
ordinary freedom, had not urged or persuaded her 
against her own judgment or the judgment of her people. 
He had, in fact, behaved in that big impersonal way he 
behaved over everything. 

The more Don realised this, and he and Ishtar were 
dropping gradually and naturally into their old confi¬ 
dential relations, the more whole-heartedly he dis¬ 
liked what seemed like going behind Copper Top’s 
back. 

Yet he could not speak of this to Ishtar. He was 
beginning to understand a little the situation in which she 
stood and he was filled with a passionate desire to save 
her all the pain he could. Also he found it impossible 
to say anything on this subject without breaking his 
promise to return to the terms of their old friendship 
during her visit. 

It was useless to speak to Lady Condor, for she must 
have summed up the whole case, and given her verdin T 
when she brought Ishtar to Storne. 

He thought of writing to Copper Top, only to realise 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


467 


that it was not his business. And Copper Top must 
know—surely he must know—and yet he made no move 
—no attempt to fight for his own hand. Could he really 
care? Was not his attitude altogether too impersonal? 
He could not love her as Don himself loved. And that 
being so was it not an added reason why Ishtar must not 
be allowed to marry him? And, after all, it was only 
Ishtar that mattered. 

In the meantime Lady Condor wrote voluminous letters 
to Lady Hawkhurst. 

“Everything is going well—dear Don is simply tre¬ 
mendous—it is impossible that any girl could resist such 
a courtship. It is so beautiful I feel like crying. I eat 
and sleep and say nothing, and feel like Machiavelli and 
Bismarck and Lloyd George rolled into one. Sometimes 
I think they forget I am here—the darlings—but when 
he remembers dear Don is quite perfect to me. I cannot 
think how Robert MacClean ever had such a son, with 
such manners I mean, and she was such a dull woman. 
He proposed to me, before he married her of course, in 
a fearfully sudden way without any previous attention, 
not even a box of chocolates, in a highwayman demand¬ 
ing your money or your life sort of style, and when I 
refused him, as of course I did—it would have been like 
marrying a Stone Quarry—he only said he wondered I 
was such a fool. Of course even Mentmore is not to be 
compared to Storne, it is a magnificent place. Ishtar is 
too lovely—what a mercy dear Don is like he is. It is 
so fortunate he wears his kilt here—it is so very pic¬ 
turesque, and of course Copper Top in his woods is ter¬ 
ribly attractive, so that it requires something of that sort. 

' M -»e more one thinks the more impossible it is that Ishtar 
should live that rabbit hutch life; but I do not think we 
need be anxious any more because I really think she is in 


468 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


love with Don all the time without knowing it. I have 
noticed several things which point to that, and I have 
had a good deal of experience. If you go down to 
Mentmore next week-end please tell Tomlins to get some 
Sweet William plants. I enclose a list of sorts. They 
have borders of them here two feet wide like crimson 
velvet ribands, and do try and see poor darling Copper 
Top, and be very nice to him, but I think it will be best 
to avoid Cousin James A 


CHAPTER XIII 


The very next morning, so it happened, she received 
a letter from the Professor. It was a violent letter, 
worthy indeed of his glorious youth rather than of his 
sober years. In most excellent English, with due care 
that every word should bear its full and perfect import, 
he had given her therein his considered opinion of her 
behaviour. 

“Upon my word!” exclaimed Lady Condor, and laid 
the document down with the extreme tips of her fingers 
upon the little table at her side. 

She was sitting in a comfortable basket chair planted 
on the grey pebbly gravel outside the conservatory, and 
had been basking peacefully, until Don had brought out 
her post, in the warm late afternoon sunshine. It was 
that pleasant hour before the dressing-gong sounds, when 
one feels justified in doing nothing at all after a well- 
spent day. The very last hour to receive a disturbing 
letter. They belong, in the just order of things, to the 
breakfast table. 

“Upon my word!” exclaimed Lady Condor again, 
and Don, who had seated himself in the second basket 
chair, looked at her enquiringly. He had, of course, 
recognised the Professor’s handwriting on the envelope 
and he was aware of a lively curiosity as to its contents. 
But Lady Condor did not indulge it. Judging by the 
little smile which began to twitch the corners of her mouth 
469 


470 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


the humorous side which belongs to everything, even a 
rude letter, had dawned upon her. 

“An impossible man,” she said, and chuckled. 

Now when two people are thinking, and have been 
thinking for some time, on very similar lines, sooner or 
later, if they are alone together, those thoughts will out 
into words, whatever intentions they may have to the 
contrary. 

“One would think,” said Lady Condor, looking re¬ 
proachfully at the Professor’s letter, “one would think 
that I was a thoroughly unprincipled woman.” 

“I know,” answered Don, and with those two words 
of apparently not very polite acquiescence, he and Lady 
Condor entered into a full understanding of each other’s 
feelings. 

“I had really made up my mind not to interfere any 
more, dear Don,” Lady Condor went on, her eyes still 
upon the letter, “but to—well, to leave things in your 
hands. But I don’t think this state of affairs ought to 
go on any longer than we can help—I feel rather like a 
moth must feel, you know, blundering about in the dark— 
no, it’s the light of course—but you know what I mean.” 

“I’m sorry, Aunt Marion. You’ve been awfully good 
to me, and I’ve never even thanked you for the letter you 
wrote after—after it happened.” 

He paused, and Lady Condor held her tongue, wisely 
but with difficulty, while he rescued her parasol from 
Betty the spaniel and drew various elaborate patterns 
with the point of it in the gravel. She was rewarded by 
a full confidence. 

“You see,” he said at length, “it’s like this. I—I 
lost my head in London. I was pretty well mad, I think, 
and I behaved like a brute. It was awfully good of Izzy 
to come up here at all—and I promised her the very first 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


4/i 


morning that Fd be like I’ve always been—friends, she 
calls it.” Don laughed a little, rather shakily, and flung 
a fair-sized stone that he had dug up scudding viciously 
down the wide grey drive. “I’ve never been her friend. 
Fve been her lover since I can remember—and I’ll be her 
lover till I die,” ended poor Don savagely. 

Lady Condor was conscious of a tingling sensation at 
the back of her nose. She felt deliciously sentimental. 
Don fulfilled her ideal of a lover completely. And again 
the thought recurred. Was Copper Top really in love 
at all? This time she put it into words. 

“He’s such a queer chap,” answered Don. “It 
doesn’t seem to me as if he could be. But there’s some¬ 
thing about him you can’t get hold of—something 
unsubstantial somehow. He’s impersonal in an extra¬ 
ordinary way. He never seems to look at things from 
the point of view of how they affect him,” Don went on, 
unconsciously echoing Charles Pendlebury. “But you 
can’t be like that if you love a woman.” 

He looked at Lady Condor, his smooth young face 
drawn with intensity of emotion. 

“No, I really don’t see how you can,” she replied, and 
added briskly, “besides, no woman wants to be loved 
in that way. Certainly not a girl who has been brought 
up as Ishtar has been.” 

“But if she loves him-?” 

“I don’t believe she does,” Lady Condor assured him, 
more emphatically perhaps than her belief warranted, in 
response to the appeal in his honest, desperately-anxious 
eyes. “It’s some different attraction he has for her. 
Something to do with Freedom and Adventure and a 
whole wonderful Other World of some sort to which 
poor darling Copper Top seems really to belong and not 
to our world at all. I’m afraid she gets all that sort of 



472 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


thing from my side of the family. A little Irish blood 
is very useful, it gives charm, but you never know how 
it will mix—or what curious—what do they call them— 
foreign bodies—there are in it. I remember my cousin 

Marcus- But where were we? My dear, I do not 

know if I am doing right or wrong in telling you—but I 
am sure you are the right husband for Ishtar—and—” 
here a really brilliant thought dawned on Lady Condor,— 
“if she marries you it will be quite simple for her to keep 
Copper Top’s friendship if they are neither of them in 
love with the other—and that I can’t help thinking is the 
real solution though the idea has only just occurred to me 
—but those sudden ones are generally right. But where 
was I? Yes, that is the solution of the whole difficulty. 
The child wants you both—she has always had you both 
—you satisfy different sides of her—you know I have 
always rather sympathised with that woman in the Play 
—what Play was it?—who wanted two husbands. One 
for her serious moods and one-” 

She stopped suddenly and looked at Don with her 
comical expression of a child who has betrayed some 
naughty secret. 

Don laughed. It was really a relief. But there was 
grim earnestness at the back of his reply. 

“She can’t have me for a friend if she marries another 
man,’’ he said. “And I’m not sure that she can have 
any other man for a friend if she marries me.’’ 

Lady Condor looked pensively out over the glorious 
stretch of wood and hill so exquisitely spread before her 
in the sunshine. 

“I don’t think I should tell her so, dear Don,” she 
murmured, and then she joined in Don’s laugh. They 
were both glad to get on to the surface of things again. 
The repression of all signs of deep feeling was part of 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


473 


their heritage, and really the way it sometimes insisted 
on raising a whirlwind that swept everything else on one 
side like bits of stick and straw was uncommonly 
troublesome and disconcerting. 

Lady Condor tore the Professor’s letter into little 
pieces, rose to her feet, scattered them with the various 
articles on her lap on to the gravel, exclaimed “There 
now! The poor gardeners !” and announced that she was 
going to walk to the end of the Yew Avenue and back. 

The Yew Avenue was an unusual thing to find in a 
Scotch demesne, for the yews were of the shrub order, 
holding their dark branches closely round their straight 
stems, a kind more common in Italy than in the British 
Isles. Those at Storne were over one hundred years old, 
and ran in two almost perfectly symmetrical lines down 
each side of a wide strip of close-mown, brilliantly green 
turf. At the end of the avenue was an exquisitely 
wrought iron gateway traced against the sky. The 
ground fell sharply on the other side, giving the gate¬ 
way a curious appearance as of leading into space. 
Wild doves had always, for some reason or another, 
made the place their home, and glanced in beauty among 
the dark trees. Looking down towards the gateway it 
was easier to imagine that you were in Italy than in 
Scotland. And indeed the yews had been planted and 
the gate erected, by a MacClean of MacClean on his 
return from a very unduly prolonged visit to Florence, 
concerning which there had been no little talk and 
surmise among his relations and retainers at home. At 
any rate he appears to have kept his own counsel, and 
whether he made that strange avenue to the memory of 
some dark-eyed Italian love or not, he eventually married 
a Carmichael of Balnacruich, and had a valiant family 
of seven sons by her, who did their duty well and nobly 


474 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


in the wars of that day, and all of whom died more or 
less violent deaths. 

Lady Condor billowed across the wide stretch of lawn 
that led to the avenue with her hand tucked confidentially 
into Don’s arm and talked with her ordinary vigour on 
all sorts of subjects at once. 

On the stone seat at the top of the avenue they found 
Ishtar. She too had received her post, and had carried 
a letter from Copper Top away to read by herself. He 
was a letter writer of the briefest order, but the quaint 
wording was like himself and conveyed something of his 
curious charm. The Professor and Pendlebury—their 
arguments and the humour of them—and Copper Top’s 
glee—the letter brought the whole mise-en-scene vividly 
before her. It would be good when she came back in 
September. Pen would still be with them. 

He did not seem to mind one little bit that she had 
gone so far away. It wasn’t Copper Top’s way—she 
knew that. And of course she did not exactly wish he 
minded—but—but could he really care—much—— 

And then she came to a bit of news that delighted her 
so much that she forgot these niggling little thoughts 
for the moment. “Pen has made me write some music 
down. I hate writing it down. You can’t get it as it 
really is that way—you damage it. But they say I must 
have a ‘profession’! Pen is no end pleased.” 

And then came in Dr. Pendlebury’s neat characteristic 
little writing. “What he really means is, that Nielson 
and Mors have accepted it, and tell me there’s been 
nothing like it in their time. Of course there hasn’t!” 

Ishtar waved the letter excitedly at the two advancing 
figures. 

“I’ve heard from Copper Top,” she called, and Lady 
Condor, seeing her shining eyes and flushed face, 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


475 

experienced the sensation known as having your heart in 
your mouth. 

Copper Top must be coming—and if she looked like 

that about it- Lady Condor’s beautiful castles all 

came tumbling round her. 

Don’s mind, fortunately for him, did not jump with 
such rapidity to conclusions, and Ishtar’s next shout 
saved him from the need of arriving at any. 

“He’s had some of his music accepted by Nielson and 
Mors. They say it’s very good. Doctor Pen is de¬ 
lighted.” 

Lady Condor narrowly saved herself from exclaiming, 
“Oh, is that all!” 

“How very nice, dear,” she said instead. 

Somehow or other she never could look upon music as a 
profession for a gentleman. She knew it was only what 
the psychologists call an inherited something, but there 
it was. “How very nice, dear,” she repeated vaguely. 
“Of course dear Copper Top is very musical—and 
Charles Pendlebury took a musical something once I 
believe—is it a degree?—or is that only for something 
scientific?” 

She continued to talk all the way down the avenue 
and back to the house, a more amazing amount of 
nonsense than usual, and while Mullins dressed her for 
dinner she assured herself that she washed her hands of 
the whole affair. It consoled her somehow to say this 
very firmly to herself, although she knew that she had 
done nothing of the sort. 

There was a dinner party that evening composed of 
the various families in the neighbourhood, irrespective 
of age, and after dinner there was dancing and bridge. 
A pleasant friendly evening that everyone enjoyed. 
Only poor Don, who had secured a violin, a cello and a 


4/6 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


pianist from the nearest military depot, cursed himself 
for a fool. The strange yearn that belongs to dance 
music tore his heart strings. Didn’t Izzy know? Didn’t 
she really know? He hardly danced with her at all. 
Measuring his own strength and weakness, he could not 
do it and keep his promise. And he must keep it—it was 
his only chance. If he didn’t keep it she would never 
trust him again. He must keep it. 

Therefore it was with a feeling of thankfulness that 
he watched the last car-load of his guests pant away down 
the drive. 

It was a wonderful night, such as perhaps only Scot¬ 
land can produce. A night of silvery radiance and of 
far clear distances. Very fair and still. 

If Izzy had only cared for him as he cared for her. 
There was a beastly tight feeling about the muscles of 
his throat. That damned waltz music was still running 
in his head, throbbing and wailing. 

“What a wonderful night,” said Ishtar’s voice at his 
elbow. 

In the moonshine she was fair as a star. She was the 
most lovely thing God had ever made. 

“Let’s go down and see the view from the end of 
the Yew Avenue,” she said. “It is nearly # as light as 
day. Much too beautiful to go indoors, isn’t it? Or 
are you tired, Don?” 

“No,” he said, almost curtly. Didn’t she know? 
Didn’t she really know? “We’ll go if you like. Don’t 
lock up,” he called to the servants who were getting 
things in order. “I’m going down the Avenue. I’ll see 
to it. Shall you be warm enough, Izzy?” 

But he did not look at her again. 

“Oh yes, quite,” she answered. Warm? She was a 
rose of flame. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


m 

They moved across the moon-white world silently; 
their feet made no sound on the turf. They walked 
slowly, a little apart from each other. 

The shadows of the yew trees lay across the grass 
blacker than the trees themselves. Beyond them the 
delicate tracery of the iron gateway guarded a world all 
silver white. 

Ishtar drew closer to Don. Her shoulder brushed 
against his arm. She felt him draw sharply away. 
Something fierce yet exquisite stirred in her breast. 
That dim region of consciousness which she had feared, 
was awake, had taken command. 

Through the gateway the silver sky stretched away 
into eternity dancing with stars. The river sang below 
in the hushed valley, the murmuring song of many 
waters. The air was keen and sweet in their mouths. 

“It’s a pretty wonderful night,” said Don, in the same 
constrained voice he had used before. 

She could not answer. Beyond the gate the ground 
fell sharply; so sharply that a short flight of stone steps 
had been necessary. Ishtar sat down on the topmost. 
Her knees had suddenly begun to quiver and she felt 
physically unequal to going down them. 

“Don’t be silly, Izzy,” Don exclaimed roughly. “You’ll 
catch your death of cold sitting there.” 

“I want to sit here,” she answered. “I don’t care.” 

He stripped himself of his dress coat and folded it 
beside her. 

“You’d better sit on that,” he said, briefly. Then he 
ran down the steps and moved away among the heather 
and myrtle bushes. 

Ishtar watched the outline of his dark head and rest¬ 
lessly moving figure in the moonlight. The fact that he 
was now in his shirt-sleeves moved her oddly. For the 


478 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


first time she realised something of what he suffered. 
Some primeval fount of mother-love welled up in her 
heart and mingled with the fire. The two overflowed her 
being. The Wonder World of Freedom, of glorious 
Adventure, faded like some intangible formless wraith, 
faint and chill, was overborne and utterly swept away. 
She called to him, low and tremulous. The palm of her 
hand resting on his coat felt it still warm from his body. 

He came back to her slowly, almost it seemed re¬ 
luctantly, and she watched him coming, drawing in the 
whole joy of the exquisite moment, with narrowed eyes 
and parted lips. 

When he reached the steps he sat down on the one be¬ 
low her. He did not speak or look at her. She could 
see the strong jaw, the muscular throat, darkly outlined 
against the moonlight. A delicate wind wandered around 
them. It was full of the subtle scent of his body, of his 
thick close hair. 

She put out her hands and drew his head between her 
palms. She felt it against her throat—her breast. Her 
lips sought and found his and instantly they were set 
together fast. 


CHAPTER XIV 


“Perfect madness! That’s what I call it, my dear boy. 
The very idea of such a thing!” 

Lady Condor waved two helpless but very annoyed 
hands, and glared at Don in a way that would not have 
disgraced the Professor. 

Don rubbed the back of his head with his right hand 
and smiled uneasily. 

“Well, you see,” he began, “telling old Copper Top 
isn’t a particularly pleasant job for Izzy, and if she 
thinks she would rather see him than write-” 

“Very well,” said Lady Condor with portentous calm. 
“I wash my hands of the whole affair.” 

Don’s eyes twinkled. 

“Oh, yes,” nodded Lady Condor. “I know. But this 
time I mean it.” 

“No, you don’t, dear,” answered Don. “And I know 
what you are afraid of, but you needn’t be.” He 
hesitated for a moment, but eventually made his declar¬ 
ation of faith clearly and proudly. “Izzy cares for me 
as much as I care for her, Aunt Marion. It was only 
that she didn’t know before.” 

“Of course I know that,” declared Lady Condor. 
“I’ve known it all the time,” she added, forgetting in 
this moment of triumph any previous misgivings. “All 
the same, dear Don, I warn you, don’t let her see Copper 
Top again, not until you are safely married, and above all 
don’t let her go to the forest.” 


479 


480 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“We both of us feel pretty badly about old Copper,” 
said Don. “I don’t see-” 

“No, my dear, you wouldn’t. How should you in¬ 
deed. And how is one to explain things—especially to 
a Scotsman. Though Barrie is a Scotsman—so perhaps 
you would understand better than Condor, who is a 
thorough Saxon if ever there was one. I’m three parts 
Irish, and was brought up in Kerry, so perhaps it’s just 
as well he is for the family.” 

Lady Condor continued to ramble about among the 
three nationalities, with a short incursion into Wales, 
while all the time odd memories of queer beliefs of her 
childhood—the Shee—Kilmeny—would come floating up 
and disturbing her sequence—if sequence it could be 
called—of thought. Barrie—yes—and Mary Rose. 
The superstitious strain in her would make itself heard. 
But she could not say anything of this sort to Don. It 
would have no effect—none whatever—no more than it 
would have on Condor or any other practical person. 
But she did not want Ishtar to see Copper Top. Above 
all she did not want her to go to the forest. 

Then she became surprisingly and very suddenly 
serious. 

“I suppose you realise that if Copper Top had chosen, 
if he had tried to make her, I mean, he could have car¬ 
ried Ishtar off in the teeth of any opposition we might 
have offered,” she said with emphasis. 

“But that was before-” began Don, and stopped, 

blushing generously. 

Lady Condor’s eyes gave a sympathetic little dance. 
“Exactly, dear Don. You and Copper Top appeal to 
different parts of her nature—but you both appeal, that’s 
the trouble. And the child has had a bad time over it. 
Now she has got into smooth waters, is nicely and com- 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


481 


fortably landing on a safe shore. If you chose to let her 

go back into the—the whirlpool-” Her mind refused 

to carry the metaphor any further. “How do you know 
that Copper Top will continue in the same very convenient 
attitude for you?” she demanded. “He may be ever 
so—what is it—impervious?—no—impersonal—that’s it 
—but he’ll be—he’ll be impossible if he lets her go now 
without a struggle.” 

Lady Condor settled herself back with firmness in her 
chair. She had put it well. Yes, really well. 

“And now, dear Don,” she ended, driving in the final 
nail. “Your blood be upon your own head—I wash my 
hands”—she made a graceful movement illustrative of 
the completeness with which she did that same washing— 
“of the whole affair.” 

She arranged herself further into her chair and showed 
that she was ready for her afternoon nap. “I have 
come to Storne to rest,” she reminded Don. 

Thus dismissed, Don went into his own special sanctum 
and fell into considerable meditation before he joined 
Ishtar in the garden. After last night he would have 
staked his existence on the certainty that Ishtar loved him. 
She loved him in the same way that he loved her. Just 
like that. The glory of it swept over him like a flame. 
But he possessed the caution of his race, and Lady 
Condor’s words had had their due effect. When, this 
morning, Ishtar had suggested that the only possible 
thing she could do was to go and tell Copper Top herself, 
and he had agreed, he had not considered the matter 
sufficiently. He had been over anxious to let her do 
whatever she wished in the matter, and whatever she 
thought would make it easier for Copper Top. Poor 
old Copper. It was the one black spot in Heaven. He 
wished with all his heart that Izzy had only known. He 


482 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


didn’t blame her—of course not—not for a moment. 
Girls didn’t understand—after all how should they? But 
it was just horrible that this should have happened— 
because it needn’t have. And perhaps Aunt Marion was 
right about how Copper Top might take it. Somehow 
one never thought of old Copper taking anything hardly. 
If he felt- Don remembered, and put the remem¬ 

brance away from him, hot and ashamed. No, of course 
Izzy must not go. But- 

A thought came to him like an invigorating douche of 
cold water. He would go himself. He squared his 
hunched shoulders, drew a long breath, and said aloud: 

‘‘That’s it!” 

It would be taking something really difficult and painful 
off his beloved’s poor, little shoulders. His whole will 
sprang to it. And besides, he had been through the same 
mill himself, he would understand. And now that he 
could think of anything but his own overpowering need, 
he knew that he hated quite a lot that Copper Top must 
be hurt. He had never seen him hurt by anything, except 
on that one horrible occasion when they had fought long 
ago. Why, he had never seen him sad! Angry some¬ 
times, but never sad. 

Somehow he could not even picture it. But to lose 
Izzy- 

He went out down to the great walled garden and 
found her cutting roses in the sunshine. She pondered 
over each ibush, considering which of its bright children 
could best be spared, and he watched her with his heart 
as well as his eyes. Then she looked up and saw him and 
came swiftly, eagerly. 

There was no living soul in sight. They had the whole 
flower-jubilant world of the great garden to themselves. 
He put his hands behind her shoulders and held her to 




THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


483 


him. His passion smote him like a sword so that the 
fear that lies at the heart of all human love gripped him. 
If he should lose—he had so nearly lost her- 

“I shall not let you tell old Copper Top, darling,” he 
said. “I shall go down and do it myself.” 

“You!” She looked startled. 

‘Til do it all right. You know I—sort of understand. 
Perhaps better than you do.” 

“Oh, Don!” She clung to him. 

“That’s all right,” he said, stroking the hair against 
his breast with strong, gentle fingers. “I think I’m 
glad I do know. Perhaps I would never have quite 
known what your love means to me—what you are giving 
me—if I hadn’t gone through that time when I thought 
I should have to do without it—all my life-” 

He held her close again. He hurt her, but the pain 
blessed. She clung to him. 

When at last he let her go she looked up at him with 
sweet eyes that yet were anxious. 

“You know the way Copper Top cares isn’t quite the 
same way as we care. Perhaps it won’t hurt him like 
it hurt you-” 

Don slipped that comforting arm of his round her, 
and they moved down the pathway together. 

“Don’t you worry,” he said. “The one thing that 
really matters is that you are not hurt any more. He’d 
say the same. I think it would be ever so big a mistake 
for you to see him for a bit.” 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him, but I think I would hate 
to see everybody else—mother and all of them—and 

Cousin James- Oh, Don, it will hurt him! He was 

so very happy about—about it.” 

Don’s arm stiffened and fell away. His face flushed 
a little. 






484 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


“Izzy!” he exclaimed. “For God’s sake are you quite 
sure—you have no regrets ?” 

She did not answer for a moment, but looked with 
wide unseeing eyes down the flower-bordered pathway. 

“Tell me,” he urged almost fiercely. “You are really 
satisfied? You will not want Copper Top again?” 

Then she turned and looked at him with a certain 
curious grave tenderness. 

“You know,” she said, speaking at first uncertainly 
but her words gathering in strength as she went on. 
“You know how I have always had that queer longing 
after some strange Freedom of which I am half afraid 
all the time. And you know it has always been wrapped 
up somehow with Copper Top. He—he can open for 
me the gateway into some world that I have always 
known was there—and always half-wanted—half-feared. 
If the longing comes back to me sometimes—how can I 
be sure—don’t be hurt, Don, don’t be angry with me, 
and oh, don’t ever forget that I turned my back on it all 
for you. It has been hard. It has torn me in pieces. 
But when you kissed me that time in London, you woke 
up something in me—something stronger than anything 
else. I couldn’t give you up for anything in all this or 
the other world. Isn’t it enough? Isn’t it enough? 
But don’t forget. Promise me you will never forget. 
That you will always understand.” 

“Izzy—Izzy-” Don took her back into his arms 

and promised her, in desperate, broken, passionate words 
that are sacred. And with them they forgot everything 
but each other, everything but those mysteries into 
which we enter when we love, walking, even we, as 
Gods. 

Don took the night mail to London. He would take 
the next night mail back. That would mean only one 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


485 


day away from Ishtar, a very sufficiently long time. And 
so it came about that it was in the quite early morning 
that he found himself following the upward forest path¬ 
way to the Little House. Old memories came back to 
him, extraordinarily vivid, curiously insistent. Once 
before he had trodden this pathway feeling uncomfortably 
nervous with an unpleasant interview before him. The 
fight with Copper Top, which had made that interview 
necessary, sprang into form in his mind, clear in every 
detail. He saw Copper Top’s face—bloody—full of rage 
—the dead pigeon in his arms—saw the retreating figure 
moving blindly—with difficulty. He heard Izzy’s sobs. 
He stood again outside the Professor’s doorway gather¬ 
ing up courage to go in. There was a horrible re¬ 
semblance about it all to his present business. It was 
odd how things seemed to come back again into one’s 
life. 

And it was strange that he shrank more from the 
possibility of having to face the Professor than he did 
from meeting Copper Top. Thank goodness Pendlebury 

had gone. It really was rotten luck that Izzy- Of 

course it was only that queer feeling she had about 
Freedom and all that—but it was odd. He had never 
even looked at another girl. 

Then the thought of Copper Top’s face, full of rage, 
all bloody, came back again and persisted. He could 
not shake it off. Surely he wouldn’t—wouldn’t go for 
him—no, of course he wouldn’t. But if he did? He 
hadn’t thought of that before. 

There was a swift rustling of a thousand leaves, the 
crackle of a bent branch, and Copper Top dropped lightly 
in the path just in front of him. 

“Hullo, old Don!” he exclaimed, and smiled joyfully. 
He looked most horribly glad to see him, nor did his 


486 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


sudden appearance seem to surprise. In Copper Top’s 
world things just happened. 

“Has Ishtar come?” he asked. 

“No,” said Don, miserably tongue-tied, with all his 
well-arranged sentences escaping him. He felt that he 
was going to hit Copper Top again—as he had before— 
smash that gay carelessness out of his face. It was a 
beastly thing he had to do—thank goodness he had not 
let Izzy- 

Copper Top’s eyes suddenly narrowed. He frowned 
intently, observing him. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“There has been a perfectly horrible mistake,” Don 
began, taking his fence as well as he could, since it had 
to be. “Ishtar asked me to come and tell you. Copper, 
I’d give my head it wasn’t you we’ve hurt—but she made 

a mistake. She-” Oh, why had he come? It was 

horrible. He was the last person. “She cares for 
me.” 

Copper Top still looked at him, but he had ceased to 
observe him. He did not even seem to be listening to 
Don’s hard-won sentences of explanation. 

A curious change came over his face. It was not rage, 
certainly not rage, nor was it pain in the ordinary mean¬ 
ing of the word. It was rather a regret, a regret so 
vital and poignant that it seemed to Don as tangible as 
the bruises of long ago. 

“Ishtar said ‘please understand.’ She thought you 
would understand.” Don ended and waited miserably. 

It seemed ages before Copper Top answered. 

“Tell her I understand,” he said at last. “You have 
been too strong for her—all of you. It is your way of 
loving. Poor Star.” 

“I wish you could have known before. It doesn’t 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 487 

seem as if I had played fair—only it wasn’t quite pos¬ 
sible-” Don stammered and broke down. 

Copper Top made a little imperious gesture of repudia¬ 
tion. 

“Do you think I should have fought—so that we 
might tear her to pieces between us?” he asked, and 
there was an edge of cold scorn to his voice. “I could 
have made her stay before. But my way is not your 
way. I tried to show her. But I have failed, and you— 
all of you—have won. I did not think it would be so— 
but that makes no difference. I could not have used 
influence—force-” 

The strange, bruised look on his face grew in intensity. 
Though Don could have touched him with an outstretched 
hand, yet curiously he seemed a long way off. 

The birds cried in the forest. 

He looked at Don coldly, impersonally. “Tell her 
not to regret like you all do,” he said. “It does no 
good to anyone. It kills joy. Tell her she is not to 
care. She is to be happy. She has the right to choose— 
and she has chosen. There is no iblame or trouble.” 

His face changed—grew full of light, of an amazing 
brightness. 

“She has known,” he said. “So she must find again. 
When she is not afraid.” 

Then he turned and went away up the pathway. The 
birds flew round his head. He vanished among the trees. 

Don watched him go, relieved that it was over and 
intensely grateful to him for the way he had taken it. 
What a ripping fellow the old chap was in his funny way. 

He retraced his steps with his thoughts in that swiftly 
moving scattered condition frequent after great strain or 
stress. Thank God it was over! He would be with 
Ishtar again to-morrow. He must send her a wire— 



488 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


now—before he did anything else. No—there was no 
doubt about it—Copper did not care in the way he did. 
He was ever so glad. It was a huge relief. 

By the time he reached the little Mentmore Post Office 
he was in the wildest good spirits. The one black cloud 
in his glorious sky had lifted. Old Copper hadn’t felt 
it dreadfully badly. He was sure of that. Not like he 
had. Not a bit. He was a good chap though. Ishtar 
should have him for her friend if she wanted to. He 
put any small feeling of jealousy away from his. Yes, 
by George, she should. 

He swung through the gates at one of the entrances 
to the Castle on an errand for Lady Condor whistling 
cheerfully and rather more out of tune than usual. Poor 
old Copper! What was that curious thing he had said 
at the end? Of course he wasn’t like other people—but 
what a dear—yes—presently—after he and Ishtar were 
married—it might just as well be quite soon- 

That tremendous thought wiped out every other for 
the time being. It stirred his pulses into mad speed. He 
could have shouted for joy—like the Sons of God in the 
Bible. He laughed aloud as the thought came to him. 
Well, he couldn’t shout, but he tossed his arms in the 
air, swung them round, and jumped the iron railings 
separating the drive from the field. Then he ran across 
the grass jumping hedge or railing as he came to them. 
It was his boyhood’s short cut to the Castle and the run 
helped him to let off steam. 

When he had jumped the last railing, which jump 
landed him in the gardens, he stopped, panting in the hot 
sunshine now blazing down out of a serene blue sky, and 
began to think again. 

He could catch the eleven-forty-seven to London. 
That would give him plenty of time to buy the things he 



THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


489 


wanted. His thoughts dwelt pleasantly among precious 
stones, and wrought gold, and pearls. Yes, he liked 
pearls. And there were her favourite chocolates—he 
would get those. And he must order another car; a 
light one—that she could drive herself. 

He would have liked to buy up half London for her. 

He strode across the gardens, found Tomlins, delivered 
Lady Condor’s messages, and then was seized by the 
excellent idea that he would take one of the cars and 
drive to London. 

He drove himself, and at a speed that should, justly, 
have landed him in the Police Court. 

However, he did not shout. 


CHAPTER XV 


Copper Top lay among the branches of the tallest tree, 
face downwards he lay, with his cheek pressed against the 
cool bark. His right arm, flung across his head, seemed 
as if to guard it from assault. 

Save for an occasional quiver through all his limbs he 
lay quite still; quite still through all the sun-bright 
summer’s day, and what he felt, what he thought, what 
passions that tear and torture the souls of men mouthed 
at him, clamouring for admittance through those long 
hours, that no man knows. 

When at last he moved it was night. A great August 
moon in a clear sky shed radiance over the world. 

He dropped down from branch to branch until he stood 
again on the earth. The curious bruised look in his face 
was still plainly visible, as a hurt to the spirit might be, 
could we see it. His eyes were wide, and as he looked 
from side to side, swiftly and eagerly, they seemed to 
change from brown to green, from green to blue. They 
flashed with a gladness of recognition. What he saw, 
that too no man knows, but undoubtedly he saw things 
unseen of man, beings that he had known, that he 
remembered. 

They called to him, “Come back to us.” 

And he answered, “I will come back.” 

And he went on and up through the forest, and many 
creatures followed him. 

490 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


491 


Above, where the little stream sang all night, he stopped 
again, and it seemed he greeted others who met him there. 

They called to him, “Come back to us.” 

And he answered, “I will come back.” 

And he went on to the great Uplands, and the creatures 
still followed. 

High above the sleeping world of men, out in the still 
wind under the sky, he saw that which he saw, and knelt 
with outstretched hands. 

“Let me come back,” he said. 

And down the slanting moonbeams came the welcome of 
his world. 

It seemed he bathed in it for a while, renewing himself. 
Then he stood up and looked back. Back to the Little 
House. 


The Professor woke early the next morning, woke with 
a start. Someone had called him. 

His first thought, as usual, was the boy. Had he come 
in last night? Had he called him from the garden? He 
got up and padded across the room. The fresh early 
morning air met him at the window as he peered out into 
a mist-wrapped world. It was very early. Not a bird 
even had begun to twitter. The hammock under the 
oak tree hung greyly empty. No white owl kept guard 
above. 

With that dream-call still exercising its peculiar 
influence, the Professor slipped into some clothes and went 
out into the dawn, picking up Little Wolf on his way. 
The little dog was too old and stiff now for the long night 
expeditions with his master such as his soul had loved, but 
this early morning wander with the Professor suited him 
admirably. He stood in front of him, sniffing the air with 


49 2 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


delicate nose. Then he trotted off towards the Beech 
Grove, and the Professor, having no particular route in 
mind, followed him. 

The Grove was still in the dark, and uncannily still. It 
was with a sense of relief, so great that he felt it was 
absurd, that the Professor heard Little Wolf’s shriek of 
welcome, and saw Copper Top coming through the 
deep well of shadow towards him. 

The bruised look no longer marred his face. It looked 
curiously swept clean of all emotion. 

“So you have come,” he said just as on that mid¬ 
summer night’s eve long ago, and slipped his hand into 
the Professor’s. 

It was late in the afternoon when they came back 
to the Little House. All its windows blazed a wel¬ 
come in the face of the sun. The fire was alight and the 
flame leaped up to greet them, crimson and heliotrope and 
gold. 

The Professor sat down and held his hands to the 
warmth, though he was not in the least cold or tired. He 
seemed indeed unconscious of anything but his own 
thoughts. A great wonder shone out of his face. 
Presently his lips moved. 

“God bless my soul!” he said. And then again, “God 
bless my soul!” 

What had happened to him! Some limitation—yes— 
obviously a limitation—had been removed. He had ex¬ 
perienced an extension of consciousness—so sudden as 
to be positively dislocating. And yet—had not his whole 
life with the boy been leading up to this—just this—this 
day of wonder in which he had not merely sensed, but 
actually known, come into touch with, Copper Top’s real 
place in the great scheme of this brave Universe. 

He clutched his head with both hands, and, elbows on 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


493 


knees, rocked to and fro in the stress of an overwhelming 
rush of thought. 

Another dimension—neither more nor less—another 
dimension of space—its denizens—some like ourselves 
and others quite different—higher beings because their 
element is higher—greater freer beings- 

All those old legends, back into the dusky dawn of 
human thought, were not only beautiful in idea, they 
were clear and true as a fact. The fables of Sun and Air 
Spirits, of Angels dwelling in light—Messengers between 
ourselves and the Absolute—moving in our invisible 
environment—all had this simple truth behind them. 
Man had relegated the former to the region of myth, 
the latter to some impossible far off Heaven—and all the 
time they were here—-co-existent with ourselves—moving 
side by side with us- 

The Professor clung more firmly to his head and 
muttered. The ruling passion asserted itself for a 
moment. He would write a book—the most amazing 
book ever written—a book that should shake continents 
—because he knew—he knew—the thing had happened— 
had happened—had happened- 

And then he groaned through all his bones, because 
he knew that book would never be written. Men would 
never believe. They called him mad now, when he told 
them the truth about the things they did believe in—and 
yet—wasn’t this just commonsense after all—of course it 
was- 

“Of course it is,” said the Professor, and lifted his 
head from his hands. 

The boy stood in front of the fire. The scent of him 
was like the sun and the wind and the rain, and he 
looked at the Professor with impish mischief in his 
dancing eyes, and yet with very comforting affection. 




494 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


The Professor looked back at him and smiled. There was 
no need for words. His thoughts moved on. 

A being from these other conditions—out of a higher 
element—who by some strange chance—or might it be 
design—had come through into a human incarnation— 
into the limitations of a human body. How had he 
ever borne those limitations ? How had the won¬ 
derful thing that he was ever lived within them so 
joyously? 

And in that moment the Professor understood that 
the boy would go. Somehow, through the loss of Ishtar, 
he had remembered, had found his own world. It was 
no longer possible that he should stay. And in the 
blazing light of his great experience the Professor did not 
wish it otherwise. He had had his vision. He knew. 
For a while his limits of time and space had receded 
—were transcended. All the remaining years of his life, 
be they few or many, were as nothing compared with the 
hours of that wondrous day, with the timeless knowledge 
that now was his. 

Copper Top sat on the hearth and sang to the fire, and 
the winds filled the room, and Little Wolf barked in 
his sleep, and Running Water’s soft whinny came up 
from the field. The swallows flew in and out, and the 
missal-thrush sang his evening hymn from the pear tree. 
Above on the eaves the pigeon cooed. 

So peaceful was the twilight, a benediction seemed to 
brood above the world. 

To Kathleen in the Little House it seemed as if the 
child had come back. The child that They had lent to 
her childless breast. Was it by chance, or in frolic, or 
with some set purpose ? She did not know. She cooked 
a special supper, what else could she do, poor Mistress 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 495 

Jones? All the things that the Professor and Copper 
Top loved best, and she served it to them by the fire. 

Long after she had bidden them good night, and 
prayed herself to sleep the boy and the Professor sat 
on, talking through timeless hours of hushed night. 

At the dawn he went. He embraced the Professor 
very tenderly, and he kissed Little Wolf, who turned in 
his sleep, and left his little old body and followed him. 
He went singing through the woods, and across the 
downs to the sea. 

With the sunrise he slipped into the great moving 
waters with a shout, a shout of Joy, a shout of Greeting, 
and swam away into the blue distances of space. 

And round the garments he had left upon the shore, 
the sea birds flew, crying. 


It was in the clear weather of gold September that 
Ishtar came and stood in the Professor's doorway. 

He sat at his desk and wrote, as of old. 

“May I come in?” she asked humbly. 

“Come in, my dear,” he said. 

She knelt beside him and laid her fair head against his 
shoulder. The flames leaped among the logs on the 
hearth, the soft wind filled the room. 

“You are not angry with me, ’Dophin?” she 
whispered. 

“No,” he said, and stroked her hair. 

She lifted her head and looked in his face. He saw 
her soul through her eyes. Her soul that Passion and 
Sorrow had marked. 

“Tell me,” she said. “I must know.” 

And though he had not meant to tell her, yet he did. 

She listened with her head against his shoulder and 


496 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


her hand in his, and when he had finished she was silent 
for a long time. Then she stood up and moved to the 
window. 

The tears were on her cheeks, but they had washed the 
sorrow from her eyes. 

Outside Don waited, pacing the grass beneath the oak 
tree. Don had been good—so good. 

She came back to the Professor. 

“I chose,” she said. “And 1 will not regret.” 

Then she knelt again beside him and laid her cheek 
to his. 

“Could he have stayed ?” she whispered. 

The Professor looked out at the sun and the wind 
and the birds, and the far horizon. 

“My dear, the wonder is he stayed with us so long.” 


Many people made pilgrimages that autumn to the 
Little House to see the Professor. 

Lady Condor came, and cried a little and talked a 
great deal, and was very dear and kind. 

And Mr. Fothersley came, sympathetic and perturbed. 

Lord Condor rode up on his big hunter, and they 
talked together as in the long ago days when they were 
boys. 

And poor Don came, by himself, and broke down and 
sobbed. 

Doctor Pendlebury came often. He was busy over 
what scraps of Copper Top’s music he had managed to 
get hold of. He longed to ask questions, but found it 
impossible. 

They all wondered. Some only a little, some a great 
deal. 


THE JOYOUS ADVENTURER 


497 


But the Professor walked ever more closely to that 
world of wider consciousness, and looked with ever 
gladder and more fearless eyes into those dim regions 
of space that terrify the blind souls of men. 











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